


He Never Wanted to Leave

by BecauseBraime



Series: He Never Wanted To [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon through S8E4, Dark Sansa Stark, F/M, Heavy Angst, Miscarriage, Valonqar Prophecy, brienne dies..., but Brienne comes back to life (kinvara), horrible angst, not sansa friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 109,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseBraime/pseuds/BecauseBraime
Summary: Canon mostly through S8E4. After Bronn shows up at Winterfell, Jaime knows that he must leave to kill Cersei. It's the only way to keep Brienne safe and atone for his sins. Assuming Brienne will be safest at Winterfell, Jaime sets out on his mission. Dark thoughts swirl in Sansa's mind and prove Jaime's assumption horribly wrong. Now Jaime has to find a way to bring Brienne back to life and to him.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters (very minor- background), Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: He Never Wanted To [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007199
Comments: 709
Kudos: 378





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be very angsty and dark in the first half, but it gets better halfway through (current outline around 20ish chapters). In all the works I've written, this is my first stab at poor Sansa. Sorry to any Sansa fans (I swear I don't hate her)! I usually love teaming her up with Brienne as a great support system and friend, but I could almost see S8 Sansa behaving this way (not ALL of it mind you) and S8 Jaime broke me, so now I have to fix him. Cause I don't know WTF that Jaime was.

_‘You would fight beside him?’_

_‘I would.’_

It was the moment that Sansa’s trust in Brienne broke irreparably. The sworn sword of the lady leading House Stark had sided with a Lannister. With _him_.

Cersei’s twin and lover had stood before them making the feeblest attempt to pretend at honor that Sansa ever bore witness to. If they won the war with the dead, it was a foregone conclusion that the dishonorable knight would flee back to his sister-lover.

With him, the Kingslayer would bring information on their forces and strategy. Cersei risked nothing by sending him. The formerly golden Lannister twin was a man with one hand. He would offer little in way of aid against an army of dead things. By comparison, Cersei’s army would remain intact to face whichever side won.

When the living won, the Kingslayer did not return south as the agreement at the dragonpit stated. Instead, he stayed and followed Brienne around like a stray dog. Knowing the role that Brienne played at Winterfell, Sansa thought it was logical.

_He seeks information. What better place than through my sworn sword. The very woman who shadows me throughout the day; hearing all manner of plans and politics. The only person in all the North who cares for him. The only person who vouched for him aside from his own kin. He takes advantage of her weakness; her heart._

Sansa had learned years ago that while her sworn sword was the warrior incarnate, she had a maiden’s heart. She had once asked Brienne if she ever experienced love. If she had ever known a man.

The question originally came out of a desire for comradery. Sansa had experienced the worst form of touch at the hands of Ramsay. She imagined that a woman who looked as Brienne did likely only knew aggressive touch.

Brienne shared that she had only ever experienced attempted rape or japes at her femininity. She shared that bets were made on her maidenhead, but none sought it out of love.

While Brienne never admitted to her love of Renly, it was obvious in how she spoke of the man. It was akin to how Brienne spoke on behalf of the Kingslayer.

Then Brienne came to Sansa at the Kingslayer’s behest, asking if he could stay. The Lannister twin pretended at having little desire to go south, but Sansa believed that as much as she believed his intentions for riding north in the first place. It was an obvious ploy to get closer to their plans.

Baelish had warned Sansa once. Brienne of Tarth, the woman whose loyalty supposedly could not be bought, was paid in full by Jaime Lannister. A Lannister sword hilt, a Lannister squire, and a sword belt with lion heads.

The Kingslayer purchased Brienne’s loyalty not in gold, but in contrived affection. A currency that Brienne never earned payment in before. It was a currency that Brienne seemed to desire as much as Cersei and Daenerys desired the crown.

_‘He armed me, armored me, and sent me to find you and bring you home, because he'd sworn an oath to your mother.’_

To Brienne, the Kingslayer may as well have given her a crown and jewels. It was the warrior knight’s version of finery befitting a noblewoman. Sansa almost pitied the woman.

_Does she truly believe someone such as herself could be desired by him? In truth, I am surprised he managed to bed her. It certainly seemed to take a lot of wine to commit to his lie._

Sansa pretended at happiness for the woman she once trusted with her life. She agreed to let the Kingslayer stay, but Sansa did so only to delay his return to Cersei’s side.

He knew too much of their forces. Sending him away would send him right back to King’s Landing with details of their attack to come. Allowing him to stay was more to their benefit. A political prisoner of sorts.

Sansa resolved to sabotage his objective. She refused him attendance at strategy meetings to ensure he heard little of their evolving plans. She also found a use for her traitorous sworn sword. A glorified Septa of sorts.

_‘Lady Brienne, I will warn you. He is your responsibility. If he betrays us, it would be your head. Keep an eye on him and report to me if you feel he will flee.’_

In truth, Sansa knew that the Kingslayer would flee. It was a matter of when, not if. When they met in the war council the day after Brienne’s request, Sansa offered her sworn sword a knowing smile.

The truth behind her smile was not one of happiness for the woman, but Sansa’s knowledge of what was to come. When Sansa saw the small, returning smile tug at Brienne’s lips, she again felt a nearly imperceptible pang of sympathy for the dolt.

_How can she possibly think he cares for her? He got drunk, took her maidenhead, made her no promises, and asks to stay without pledging loyalty to our cause nor marriage to the woman he publicly dishonored._

Sansa watched for weeks as Brienne smiled dotingly at a man who looked more and more distant by the day. It was clear that his mind was with his sister-lover. It took a moon turn before he made his move.

When Sansa received the missive, she brought Brienne into the courtyard where she knew the Kingslayer was bound to be milling about. He spent his days either trailing after Brienne and Pod or watching the castle’s rebuilding process.

Sansa knew that with Missandei captured and a dragon killed, the Targaryen queen would go mad. Signs of the Targaryen’s madness were evident at Winterfell during her stay. Sansa saw the vexed looks and tense exchanges with Jon. Sansa planted the final seed by sharing the truth Jon’s lineage with Tyrion.

_I’ll let the two women destroy each other in the battle to come. Let my enemies take each other out. Then I’ll see to it that the North is free of them all._

Looking to the missive in her hands, Sansa smiled inwardly as she donned her cool mask. She learned the art of lying from Baelish, but she perfected it years prior in King’s Landing when she stood before Joffrey and Cersei.

_This is what will push the Kingslayer over the edge to take the last step towards his death. The final push back to his sister’s arms and see all my enemies in the stranger’s grasp; Daenerys and the Lannisters._

Sansa read the missive and watched as the man’s face fell at word of his siter’s imminent demise. He would not get a chance to gather more information or weaken them from within. The Kingslayer would flee to his true love none the wiser.

Sansa heard from the lookout of the pitiful scene in the courtyard the night prior. She saw the withdrawn look on Brienne’s face the next day in the great hall. It was a waiting game to see how long it would take the woman to confess her failure. The admission didn’t take long.

A knock at the door to Sansa’s study interrupted her concentration on the missive she was writing. Before calling to enter, Sansa took a small sip of her tea. The door creaked open, revealing the face of her sworn sword.

“ _Lady_ Brienne. What can I do for you?” Sansa’s voice was as cool as the northern winds. She glanced back down at the missive she was writing while Brienne entered the room and shut the door.

“My lady, if I may have a moment of your time.”

Pointing at the seat before you, Sansa poured Brienne some tea. They often took tea together in Sansa’s study, and Sansa attempted to make the morning’s routine seem no different than any other.

With a polite smile and nod, Brienne drank the tea and fumbled for her words. “I regret to inform you, but Ser Jaime left last night.”

_Of course he did. And you let him._

“And you’re telling me this now?”

Sansa looked up from her missive in feigned shock. The expression on Brienne’s face was one of shame.

“I apologize, my lady. I… I tried to stop him.”

Tension filled the air as Sansa stood from her desk and walked around it. Leaning slightly against the wooden desk, Sansa gripped the edge with her hands and appraised Brienne. Her sworn sword looked as though she went through the Seven Hells and back again.

“Why did he leave?”

Brienne shifted in her seat and swallowed thickly. “For… for Cersei.”

“Because Cersei is the _only_ woman he loves.” Sansa watched as Brienne flinched, but she did not deny the statement.

“Yes, my lady.”

Sansa snorted and raised a brow. “So he spoke no words of love to you? No promises?”

“No, my lady.”

Folding her arms, Sansa’s eyes narrowed at the woman before her. She wanted to laugh at how gullible the woman had been. Regardless of intent, Brienne had betrayed Sansa for the Lannisters.

Pity gave way to anger at the betrayal. Sansa had been made to feel a fool before. Misplaced trust seemed a theme in Sansa’s life, and the woman before her proved to be no different than past lessons.

“So the rumors are true. You truly are the Kingslayer’s Whore?”

Brienne bit her lip as tears formed in her eyes. She looked to the floor and did not answer the question. Pushing further, Sansa took aim where she knew it would hurt most.

“You were at Joffrey’s wedding. Cersei spoke to you. I assume you recall what she looks like. Did you truly believe someone like _him_ could desire someone like _you_ after having _her_? You betrayed us when you let him ride south to save his twin. You betrayed me. You _failed_ me.”

Brienne took a deep breath and spoke more to her feet than Sansa. “I am very sorry, my lady. I do not believe he means to fight against us. I think he only means to save Cersei, or at least ensure she doesn’t die alone. He knows that city is doomed.”

“How can you possibly know any of that? Clearly you didn’t even see how he was using you to get information for his sister. And what do you think will happen if Cersei survives this? You must know that she will come for me next, or are you that stupid? Now he rides south with full knowledge of our plans. You do recall our agreement, correct? Are you here to offer your head?”

Brienne glanced up and nodded. “I remember it. It’s yours to take.”

Sansa stood to full height. A menacing expression tugged at her features. “When this war is done, I will see to it that you are exiled if you have not left Westeros before then. I’ll leave you with your head as a parting thanks for what you once did for me. You must leave before sunset.”


	2. A Maiden and a Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne reflect the day the missive arrives from the south.

**Brienne**

Brienne pushed around the porridge in her bowl. On account of the miserable hour, only a few other soldiers were in the great hall breaking their fast. Always an early riser, Brienne was accustomed to waking before the sun. It was not uncommon for her to be the first to rise and the last to take rest.

In the North, it seemed that most hours were without sunlight. It was often difficult to identify where one day ended and the next began. Despite that, Brienne had acclimated to it.

At her back and two tables down, a group of men grumbled about the cold and shift assignments for the day. Brienne knew the men. They were a problematic group originally from House Bolton. It was with good reason that Jon left them behind on his march south. The men were crass, insubordinate, cruel, and disrespectful.

More so concerning to Brienne was their lack of regard for a woman’s authority. They condescended to Lady Stark, and they seemed determined to make Brienne’s life more difficult than necessary.

Then she heard it. The voice was low enough that it pretended at secrecy, but Brienne knew better.

“Can’t believe they stuck the fuckin’ woman with me again. Kingslayer’s Whore.”

The men snickered before another continued.

“Ser Whore now. What a fuckin’ joke. I heard he only knighted her so he could bed her.”

A flush at the back of Brienne’s neck gave away her awareness of their conversation. It was not the first time since the feast that Brienne heard such cruelties spoken by the group.

Any respect she earned during the Long Night seemed cast aside the moment Jaime Lannister followed her from the great hall and stumbled into her room drunk, complaining of the heat, Tormund, and Tyrion’s game.

Since then, Brienne heard soldiers jape that it took Jaime a jug of wine to knight her and a barrel’s worth to bed her. Worse still, others japed that Jaime only laid with Brienne to boast at bedding the most attractive woman in Westeros _and_ the ugliest woman in Westeros.

Still, Brienne let Jaime return night after night. Try as she might to summon some semblance of self-respect and self-preservation, she couldn’t turn him away.

Brienne had loved Jaime for years despite her mind’s insistence to the contrary. She had never done anything for herself until Jaime came to her room that night. He seemed willing, and so for the first time in her life, Brienne followed her heart. 

Like Jaime once stated, things were clearer in the daylight. The day after Jaime took her maidenhead, Brienne cried privately as she stared down at the bloodstain coating her bedding. She reprimanded herself for allowing her heart to override her mind.

If word reached Tarth of how whorishly she behaved, Brienne feared that she would be Brienne Storm before the winter’s end. A part of Brienne also worried that Jaime felt dishonored at the act.

Jaime always seemed to pride himself on his fidelity to Cersei. Brienne was uncertain what brought Jaime to her door that night, but she supposed that wine and sadness drove his actions.

Wine to give him the courage to bed such a creature as her. Sadness at the loss of Cersei. His own twin had threatened to kill him for choosing to honor a pledge to fight for the living. Brienne wished to kill Cersei herself, if only it wouldn’t destroy Jaime in the process.

In her heart, Brienne knew that Jaime was not hers to keep. Everyday Jaime grew more distant and Brienne feared that he may return south before the fighting ended. It wasn’t the thought of losing Jaime to Cersei that scared Brienne, but the thought of what would happen to Jaime when he left.

The North and Queen Daenerys already hated Jaime despite how honorable he proved himself to be. If Jaime was caught returning to his sister’s side as the agreement in the dragonpit stated, it would be a death sentence.

Every night, Brienne prayed to the Seven that she could be _just enough_ to keep Jaime safe until the fighting was over. Afterwards Jaime could likely reclaim his ancestral home with backing from the crown.

He could take a beautiful wife to bear his children. Someone worthy of him. Someone whose love he returned. It would hurt to watch, but Brienne would be happy for him.

Jaime made no promises nor spoke false words of love. If anything, Brienne respected him more for it. It was in herself that Brienne lost respect.

_That fucking game. ‘You’re a virgin.’_

She had wanted to punch Tyrion and reply, ‘Of course I’m a virgin, you dolt. I’m an unwed noblewoman.’

It was another reminder of the cruelties of the world.

_If I was a beautiful noblewoman, I would be scorned for losing my maidenhead before I wed. Because I am an ugly noblewoman, I am mocked for having my maidenhead despite being unwed._

Even still, it was less that Tyrion made a mockery of her maidenhead and more the way he said it. ‘You’re a virgin.’

When the words left Tyrion’s lips, all Brienne could think of was a similar comment spoken by another Lannister years ago.

‘ _You’re a virgin_ I take it. Your childhood must have been awful for you. Were you a foot taller than all the boys?’

It wasn’t the first time during the feast that Brienne wondered if Tyrion’s game was no different than the ball on Tarth. Brienne had told Pod of it. The cruel game in which the boys pretended at liking her and wanting do dance with her. Pretended at wanting to marry her. ‘Brienne the Beauty’ they called her when the game was revealed.

Then she thought of Renly’s camp and the bet made on her maidenhead. The men had been nice then too. It wasn’t until Lord Tarly told Brienne the truth of it that she realized how naïve she had been to think herself desirable.

Brienne had wondered if the three men met up before the feast to lay out the game. She wondered if Jaime mocked her virginity to Tyrion, just as Pod shared the story of the ball from Tarth. It was the only way that Jaime could have known about her dancing with Renly.

_Why would Pod partake in such a cruel game? I thought he was my friend._

Brienne had wanted to ask Pod of it the next day, but she couldn’t find the courage. If Pod’s friendship was only a game for his own amusement, Brienne would rather be ignorant to it. He was the only friend she had and losing him meant she would be alone again. 

Notwithstanding her suspicions at Jaime’s interest, Brienne gave herself to him. Love was not something she expected to have returned. It was one of the earliest lessons that Brienne learned in life.

She was not lovable. Despite that, Brienne willingly giving all of herself to anyone who would accept it. She offered her loyalty, protection, care, and love.

At first, Jaime seemed content with his decision to stay. There was a moment in which Brienne thought perhaps he might care for her. A tenderness was in his eyes when they were together, and it sent Brienne’s heart racing. When Jaime approached Brienne about seeking Sansa’s approval to stay, she was overjoyed.

As Brienne did when Renly accepted her onto his Rainbow Guard, Brienne nearly cried with happiness. Then Jaime returned drunk from his night at the inn with Tyrion. He fell into bed with Brienne and turned his back to her.

When Brienne awoke the next morning, the bed was empty and cold under her outstretched arm. It hadn’t taken too long to find Jaime. He was on the battlements watching the army preparing to move out. That was when Brienne saw the distress in his eyes.

_Did he only seek to stay with me because he worried at dishonoring me? Have I selfishly made him feel obligated to stay?_

After the army moved out, Jaime seemed uneasy and withdrawn. To her face, Jaime would smile, but there was a spark missing from his eyes that seemed to be there days prior. Try as she might, Brienne could not seem to make him happy.

Brienne’s memories were interrupted by Jaime’s approach to the table. He sat quietly opposite Brienne and offered a small smile. It seemed as forced as his continued presence at Winterfell.

“You left earlier than usual today.”

Pushing around the uneaten porridge in her bowl, Brienne cleared her throat and tried to push away the nagging voice in her head reminding her of all that she wasn’t compared to Jaime’s true love.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I might eat and make myself useful for the day.”

Jaime watched the path of Brienne’s spoon as she dragged it back and forth across the bland food.

Brienne tried to think of something to say that might lift Jaime’s spirts. Anything to take his mind off the fighting to the south. It was moments like that in which Brienne wished she had Jaime’s wit, Pod’s affability, or Tormund’s knack for storytelling… even if the stories themselves were a bit weird.

“One of the shifts saw the first signs of thaw. The ice is receding from the riverbed. Mayhap in a few moon turns we may even see the grass and flowers return. Then you might not think it’s so dreary.”

Jaime snorted and rolled his eyes. “Gods, I hate the fucking North. I certainly never needed to have such conversation in the south. The weather just stayed decent to begin with.”

_Stupid. What was I thinking? I hope he doesn’t think that I expect him to stay here that long with me._

“Of course. I didn’t mean… never mind.”

An awkward silence fell over them before Brienne inquired what Jaime might do for the day. As always, he shrugged and did a poor job of hiding his boredom. No one at Winterfell would trust Jaime to assist with restoration efforts or other odd jobs around the castle.

Jaime spent his time with Brienne and Pod, or he watched the workers hustle about, repairing the damaged castle. They spoke of trivial topics for a while longer until Brienne took her leave to find Lady Sansa. It was later that day when the missive arrived from the south.

**Jaime**

Jaime had awoken as he did most mornings; alone. Stretching out his arm, he felt Brienne’s side of the bed colder than usual. He remembered Brienne being an early riser during their journey through the Riverlands. It was almost comical to think back on the earliest days of their relationship now.

_Gods. I was a proper ass. How did she not kill me off then?_

Just as Jaime had tormented Brienne on their journey south, Brienne had tormented Jaime’s mind and soul every day since. He knew that something had shifted between them after their capture by Locke. A hand, a bear, a sword. It was as though Brienne was imprinted into his heart and soul.

Jaime had sent Brienne away from King’s Landing with a sword, a squire and his heart. He needed her to guard his heart as desperately as Pod needed saving and Sansa needed finding. Every day they were apart, Jaime dreamed of her. Sapphire eyes plagued his dreams and clouded his thinking.

Try as Jaime might to push Brienne from his daily thoughts, he couldn’t. He had admitted it to himself at Riverrun, that what he felt for Brienne went well beyond a comradery forged out of shared trauma. When she stood before him in the tent, he accepted it for what it truly was. Love.

When Brienne tried to return Oathkeeper, it felt a rejection of his love for her. It all felt so clear in the moment, and a part of Jaime wanted to leave it all behind and follow her. He would have followed her to the ends of the world and back again, but he didn’t. He watched her leave in a boat just as he watched her leave on horseback years prior.

Then Brienne put herself back into harm’s way. When she stood in the dragonpit mere feet from Cersei, Jaime felt as though he couldn’t breathe. The woman he thought himself in love for most of his life glared at the woman he would love for the rest of his days. Jaime had tried to ignore Brienne, but he always felt an overwhelming pull when she was near.

At first, he thought Brienne safe. Cersei stormed off towards the Keep and Jaime followed like the beaten dog he was. Then Brienne grabbed his arm and shook him from his stupor. ‘Fuck loyalty.’

He had already known that going north wasn’t an option, it was a mandate. Jaime couldn’t allow the woman he loved to stand before death itself without him at her side. Surviving the war with the dead was not something Jaime expected to happen. When the dead thing charged out of the box, Jaime knew he was soon to join its ranks.

All Jaime wanted was to honor the pledge he made and die in the arms of the woman he loved. He had not expected Brienne to vouch for him. He had not expected to survive the war. He had not expected to be with her.

Jaime had tried to find a way to win Brienne’s affections. After following her around for days before the dead arrived, Jaime realized how little he knew about her. That was when he found an unlikely ally in Pod.

Pod was a never-ending source of information on all things Brienne. It didn’t take much to get the information out of Pod; only a slight hit to Jaime’s pride and some cups of ale.

Pod was far more perceptive than Jaime gave him credit for. Apparently, Jaime’s pining after Brienne was as pathetic as Tyrion made it seem. The young man confronted Jaime on it when Jaime approached in a pitiful attempt to casually obtain information on Brienne.

_‘I had an idea when you were staring at her in the yards. I knew it when you knighted her.’_

Things had been going well at the feast until Tyrion arrived at the table with his stupid game. His younger brother had confronted Jaime earlier that day on his lack of progress with Brienne. Tyrion seemed in need of a distraction, and Jaime’s love life seemed to be it.

_‘You’re a virgin.’_

Jaime cringed inwardly and glanced to Brienne. When he saw Brienne’s face fall, Jaime wanted to throw Tyrion from the highest battlement.

It was unclear if his brother meant to help or hurt his effort to woo Brienne, but he was definitely not helping. What Jaime had not expected, was everything that came after.

Taking more wine to Brienne’s room, any planned declarations of love went by the wayside when he looked into her eyes. His mouth went dry and his tongue felt tied in a knot. He was nervous and bumbling, but not drunk.

Frustrated at his inability to convey what was screaming its way through his heart, Jaime felt jealousy take over and defensiveness kick in. A need to protect his own heart won out, and he rambled nonsense as he fumbled with his clothing.

Everything felt like his first time. He didn’t think that Brienne was drunk or incapable of making clear-minded decisions. He let his heart’s desire take over as he crashed his lips into hers.

Lying in bed afterwards, Jaime felt guilt sink in. He began to question how much wine Brienne had. A sudden awareness of his actions weighed on him and Jaime worried that he had betrayed Brienne. He had taken the maidenhead of the most honorable, incredible, amazing woman in Westeros, and he had not spoken a single loving word before or during the act.

Jaime reconciled that he would confess his love the next day. If Brienne returned his love, he would drag her before any god she wanted and say his vows. The next day however, Brienne seemed distant.

He slipped from the room to get her something to eat and drink, but when he returned, she was gone. The sheets had been torn from the bed and piled onto the floor. His heart sank and once more, he decided to guard his heart rather than bare his soul. 

Desperate to try a different approach, Jaime asked if he could stay. With more time, perhaps he could win her over and put forth a better effort than the night of the feast. When she agreed and seemed happy for it, Jaime felt a spark of hope.

There were days that Jaime wondered if he had died in the battle and it was all a dream. It seemed too good to be true. He was free from Cersei’s clutches and with the woman he loved. Then reality set in when Bronn arrived. The words had sent a chill down Jaime’s spine.

_‘… maybe a few of her top generals get picked off…’ Brienne._

Jaime couldn’t lose her. While Jaime doubted Bronn would follow through with Cersei’s orders, he also knew that Cersei would send more assassins north. She would not rest until everything and everyone that Jaime loved was gone from this world. The reality of the situation took hold.

_I’ve ruined the best thing in this world. Everything I touch goes to shit. Brienne would be better off without me. Now she is being targeted because of my selfishness and need to be around her._

As much as Jaime tried to be in the moment with Brienne, his mind constantly wandered. He saw threats around every corner and heard Cersei’s calls. It was time for him to die in atonement for his sins.

_‘How do you know there is an after?’_

Bran’s ominous words brought Jaime back to the strange young man in the wheelchair. The missive had arrived from the south and Sansa’s implication was clear. Cersei was a hateful woman and deserved to die.

Unfortunately, Cersei was also gaining the upper hand. Without intervention, Cersei might win and then Brienne wouldn’t be safe.

As Jaime stood before Bran, he met the boy’s eyes. “You asked me how I knew there was an after. Am I meant to die with Cersei to atone for my sins? I’ll go south. I’ll kill Cersei to keep Brienne safe. To keep you all safe.”

Bran stared at Jaime blankly before responding. “You’ll be the death of her.”

_My twin. I’ve done horrible things for Cersei. She’s a hateful woman and she’ll kill everyone to get her way. I have to kill her to keep Brienne safe. If I die in the process, it may be for the best. Brienne deserves someone as good as she is. Someone who she loves in return. Not some old, cripple known for fucking his own sister._

Jaime was at war with himself all day. He didn’t want to leave Brienne, but if he stayed and Cersei won, Brienne would not be safe. Jaime needed to ensure Cersei did not survive the war. Bran’s words echoed in his mind. I need to kill Cersei. It must be by my hand.

It was likely that Cersei and Daenerys would kill each other and take all of King’s Landing with them, but Jaime couldn’t take the risk. He needed to see it done, even if it meant his own death. Before committing his second selfless act to save King’s Landing, he had one final act of selfishness.

Tugging Brienne into her room, Jaime made love to her twice before she fell asleep. He needed to tell Brienne through his body what he could not give voice to. His love. Sitting before the fire before finding the courage to leave, Jaime felt as though he was leaving his soul behind as well.


	3. Stay and Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne asked Jaime to stay, but Jaime must leave.

**Brienne**

_‘Stay with me. Please.’_

It was the first time in Brienne’s adult life that she asked for something with selfish intent. Everything else was always requested in service to another. Brienne had long accepted that she would never have another’s affection nor love. She was meant to serve as a human shield and nothing more.

Her request was the closest thing to a love confession that Brienne could muster without destroying herself in the process. She felt like a desperate fool the moment the words left her mouth. If words were tangible things, Brienne wished to reel them back in with her hands.

From a young age, Brienne discovered that it mattered little what she desired. She wanted to be accepted, but she was outcast. She wanted to be pretty, but she was ugly. She wanted to be respected, but she was mocked. More than anything, she wanted to be loved, but she was unlovable.

Standing before the only man that Brienne had ever given herself entirely to, she felt vulnerable and exposed. It was as though she was bleeding out before him and all Jaime could do was talk about his sister. His other half. His true love.

Jaime was never meant to be hers and she knew that, but she raged at herself for not being enough to save him. With the depths of her soul, Brienne felt him a good man.

_I can’t save him if he can’t see his worth. He sees his soul in the same light that Westeros sees me. Ugly. Unworthy. Unlovable. The difference is that his perception of self is false._

It was too embarrassing to love him in such an obvious way. Rather than say anything more, she had watched him ride away to death. It hurt to know that death seemed a better option than staying with her.

_I’m simply that miserable to be with that someone would rather die. It’s my fault._

Brienne stood in the courtyard with her head hanging in shame for some time. It wasn’t until her feet grew numb from the snowing melting into her boots that she moved. The night was a blur. An array of emotions fought for dominance in Brienne’s mind; each more self-loathing than the last.

When the sun came up, Brienne realized that she had not taken rest. Lady Sansa would be expecting her, and she needed to honor her vows to the young woman. It was the only thing more powerful than her instinct to care for herself.

_I’m a sworn sword first. A woman with wants second. I must do to my duty and honor my vows to Lady Sansa. It’s the one thing that I can’t fail at. It’s the only thing that I’m good at._

It was then that Brienne realized her failure. When she saw Jaime in the courtyard, she knew it was her duty to inform Lady Sansa, but she couldn’t. In her heart, Brienne knew that all Jaime wanted was to die with Cersei; the only woman he ever loved.

_If I knew that he was in King’s Landing alone and waiting for death, I would ride to him too. How could I deny him that with Cersei?_

When Sansa dismissed her, Brienne felt hollow. The only thing Brienne felt useful for was deemed insufficient. She could not disagree with Sansa’s determination and Brienne would honor the decision. If anything, she considered herself lucky that the young woman spared her life.

_I would have honored my word and given my head. She does me a kindness in her own way, though I’m certain Essos wishes she would have taken my head. Now they’ll be doomed to look upon me as Westeros has._

Westeros. The thought of her father on Tarth flashed in Brienne’s mind. She replayed the last conversation she had with him before leaving for Renly’s war.

_“Thrice I’ve tried to find you a match, and thrice I have failed. I let you train with the sword, and you took advantage of that kindness by beating the last match willing to have you to a bloody pulp. Don’t return to Tarth unless you intend to do your duty.”_

Making her way back to her room, Brienne stepped inside and sat on the edge of the bed. She had failed Lady Sansa, and, in the process, she failed Lady Catelyn.

_I was selfish. I failed Jaime. I failed Sansa. I failed Lady Stark. I failed Renly. Everyone who comes near me is cursed. Pod. I’ve failed him too. He deserves knighthood and I can’t even give him that. I’m a disgraced knight. No… not a knight. It’s as the men said. Just a whore only knighted by a man in desperate need of distraction._

The sight of Oathkeeper hanging dutifully by the fireplace caught her eye. It was piece of herself that once felt worthy. When she gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper, she felt like a woman with a purpose.

It was a gift from a man who meant the world to Brienne, and he entrusted to her to carry out a shared oath. Brienne would have gladly given her life for Sansa’s, but now she may have compromised the young woman’s life.

When Jaime told her to keep the sword at Riverrun, it felt like more. For a brief moment, Brienne imagined he was willingly offering a piece of himself through the sword.

_Gods. How pathetic am I. Thinking he meant anything more than offering a piece of steel that I may do my job. He’s a good man. What was he going to do? Take it back? I had just told him that I would be fighting for Sansa’s home and by consequence, her life._

Brienne stood from the edge of the bed and gathered her meager belongings. In her sack, Brienne threw inside her smallclothes, her tunics, breeches, and the cloths for her moonblood.

_My moonblood. Gods. When did I last bleed? I know it was before the dead came, but when? Seven hells. I’ve missed it._

A slight panic set in as Brienne calculated backwards. Her last moonblood was a fortnight before the Long Night. It had been six weeks and she had not considered the absence of her moonblood. The realization added to Brienne’s vexation with herself.

After packing her meager belongings, Brienne took one final look at the room she had called home for years. The room she was afforded after Lady Sansa reclaimed Winterfell. The room she came to after being knighted. The room she gave herself to Jaime in. The room she betrayed everyone by crying in the dark rather than alerting the guards or stopping Jaime herself.

Brienne slung the sack over her shoulder before gathering her armor in hand. She wouldn’t need her armor where she was going, but she would need to trade it for coin to afford passage to Essos.

With Oathkeeper strapped to her waist, Brienne felt weighed down. It wasn’t a physical effort to carry it, but an emotional load that she struggled with.

It no longer felt as though Brienne was worthy of wearing the sword. Once outside, Brienne sought out Pod. He deserved a true knight to squire for. Someone who could knight him without seeing shame placed on the young man.

“Ser Brienne. Why do you have all of your things?”

Brienne turned around to see Pod walking slowly to her. His brows were knitted as he appraised her pile of belongings. Glancing down to her things, Brienne forced a smile to her face.

“Hello Pod. I… I need to be going now. I was looking for you actually.”

At Brienne’s words, Pod’s face fell. A slightly panicked expression took hold of his features.

“I’ve failed in my oath to keep Lady Sansa safe. I was given strict orders and I did not follow them, so I need to leave.”

Brienne paused to bite the inside of her cheek in a pathetic attempt to mask her emotions. She needed to be strong for Pod and ensure he was alright.

“I am so sorry, Pod. I had hoped to knight you, but it should be by a worthy knight or sovereign. Being knighted by me would only bring you shame, and I don’t want that for you.”

Brienne put her armor on the ground and began to unstrap Oathkeeper from her waist. Pod’s eyes went wide in shock at the sight.

“My lady. Ser. Being knighted by you would be the greatest honor, but more than that, I want to go with you.”

“No! Pod, please. You need to stay here. I need you to guard Lady Sansa on my behalf. Please, honor the oath that I failed at.”

Placing Oathkeeper in Pod’s arms, Brienne forced another smile as the air left her lungs. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. When she opened them to speak, she was surprised at the despair on Pod’s face.

“Please, Pod. You’ve come so far. After all you’ve done, you deserve a proper knighting. I ask that you honor the oath that I made to Lady Catelyn. Guard Lady Sansa as I would have. Please.”

Wrapping his hand around the sword and sword belt, Pod shook his head in refute. “Let me come with you, Ser.”

Brienne took a deep breath. Where she was going, Pod could not follow. She needed to know that he was safe and positioned to succeed in this world. Brienne would set sail to Essos with barely a coin to her name and no proper skills befitting a woman. She could only hope to find a worthy cause to fight for and not fail in it as she had failed in her oaths to Lady Sansa.

“You can’t, Pod. I’ll be fine, but you are needed here. Please, honor the oaths that I made. Use this sword to guard Lady Sansa. She is a good woman and will need protection. I don’t feel she is safe with some of these men. Will you do that for me?”

Pod nodded in acceptance and met her eyes. “Yes, Ser. Will you write when you get home?”

_Home. I have no home._

“Of course.”

Unable to look at Pod a moment longer for fear of breaking down, Brienne picked up her amor and turned towards the gates of Winterfell. It would be a long journey to White Harbor, the site of her best chance to secure safe passage to Essos.

Approaching the gates of Winterfell, Brienne considered what little coin she had on her person. Turning towards the stables, she approached and inquired after a horse.

“Excuse me. I was wondering if I might exchange coin for a horse. I’m to ride to White Harbor.”

The stable master looked Brienne over with disdain heavy on his features.

“How much do ya have?”

Putting down her armor, Brienne riffled through her coin purse. She had the equivalent of a single Gold Dragon. From her experience, it should be enough for a proper horse.

Putting the coin in the man’s hand, he appraised it and nodded.

“Aye, this is enough for a horse.”

Brienne sighed in relief and offered a warm smile. “Thank you.”

Before she could inquire which horse would be agreeable, the man snorted.

“It’s enough to cover the horse ya Kingslayer stole off with last night. Unless ya got more coin in there, out with ya. Kingslayer’s Whore.”

It was the first time that someone called Brienne that openly and it hurt twice as much as the japes behind her back. She knew the man standing before her. He was a good, honest man who was loyal to Lady Sansa.

During the battle with the dead, Brienne had fought beside his son and saved the young man’s life. She had prayed to the Seven when the young man left with Jon that he would return safely.

Taking in the words, Brienne’s face fell. With a small nod, she picked up her armor and walked out through the gates.

_Now I have no coin and no horse. I hope the village will give me fair price for my armor._

Making her way towards Wintertown, Brienne felt tears at the back of her eyes. The cold northern air pulled the tears towards the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill anew.

_Do not cry. Pathetic. Keep your head up and your mouth shut. You did this to yourself. If Lady Sansa was cruel, your head would be on a spike._

Arriving at Wintertown, Brienne made her way towards the local blacksmith. He was a good man who had an eye for fine weaponry and armor. When she first visited Wintertown years ago on orders from Lady Sansa, Brienne met the man and struck up a friendly acquaintance with him.

He had noticed her armor then and his words rang fresh in her mind.

_“Some fine armor ya got there, m’lady. I’ve not seen its likes in some time. Where did ya get it? I know many a man would pay hefty coin for something as that.”_

Making her way into the shop, Brienne spotted the man she had spoken with on many occasions over the years.

“Hello Balen. How are you?”

The man looked at Brienne with knitted brows. “M’lady. What do ya need?”

Swallowing thickly, Brienne looked to the armor in her hands. It felt more than armor. It was now the last thing she owned that Jaime had gifted her. Oathkeeper and Pod were safely at Winterfell, honoring the oath that she failed at. Closing her eyes briefly, Brienne reminded herself why she had to part with the last piece of Jaime.

_You have no place here. You have no purpose. No loved ones. You failed them._

“I was hoping that I might see how much this armor could fetch me. Unfortunately, I need the coin to follow out my last order to Lady Sansa.”

Balen huffed a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Ya have any idea how much armor I have in the back room? So many dead from the battle with the dead and no fuckin’ soldiers left in need of it. I can’t buy it.”

Brienne felt her heart drop. Realization hit her that she had no coin for food on the road, let alone passage to Essos. Desperation kicked in as she looked to Balen.

“Please, anything. I wouldn’t ask for its value. Just anything you could offer.”

Balen sighed and shrugged. “I got a silver stag on me. That’s more than I should offer.”

The price felt like a sword to the heart. Brienne knew the armor was worth well more than that and it felt yet another betrayal of Jaime. With a small nod, Brienne placed the armor on the counter and hung her head in shame.

“Very well.”

Balen snorted. “Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Truly? That armor for a stag? Fuck it. I’ll not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Throwing the coin at her, Brienne’s lips pressed together into a forced smile as she nodded in thanks and left the shop. Brienne felt suffocated and she needed fresh air. She had given away the only gifts she had ever received for the price of a stag.

Aside from the clothing at her back, the stag was all Brienne had left to her name. She would need to do what she could on the way south to acquire abandoned goods to trade for coin at White Harbor. If that approach did not work, she may need to consider offering services.

Brienne left the village after taking a final look back in the direction of Winterfell. Her stomach lurched as reality set in.

_I’m a woman alone with no armor or weaponry to protect myself. I’ve barely any coin to my name and I’ve no one to travel with. Will anyone notice if I die?_

**Jaime**

_‘Stay with me. Please.’_

The words ate away at what little remained of Jaime’s heart. He had wanted for nothing more than to stay with Brienne. If he could, he would steal her away to Essos and leave behind the madness of Westeros. Despite the desire, he could not.

He needed to kill his wretched twin or die trying. Cersei; the woman for whom he committed his most heinous crimes. Still, Brienne’s words gnawed at him.

It was the first time that Brienne asked something of him not in the name of another.

_‘Let me treat with the Blackfish’… for Lady Sansa_

_‘Let me take Sansa from King’s Landing’… for Lady Catelyn_

Self-loathing wore at Jaime.

_I couldn’t give her the one thing she asked for. ‘Stay with me.’ If only she understood how much I don’t want to leave. How much I long to stay. I need to kill Cersei to keep her alive. To keep her safe. Brienne is safe at Winterfell. Safe away from me._

Jaime prayed to the Seven that he could kill Cersei and get back to Brienne. He would spend every day for the rest of his life _staying_. He would prove to her how much he never wanted to leave.

As the horse’s hooves stomped through the dampened northern soil, all Jaime could hear was Pod’s rendition of Jenny’s Song. Sapphire eyes haunted his thoughts. Eyes he brought tears to.

Despite the pain, Jaime knew that he would gladly die so long as it was a death that ensured Brienne’s safety. His only regret was leaving her in the courtyard crying.

Jaime contemplated if there was a way to ensure Brienne knew of his love in the event he didn’t survive.

_I should have written a note. I should have told Pod the words that I couldn’t tell her._

Jaime rode hard and with minimal breaks. It was a desperate effort to get to King’s Landing before Jon’s army attacked. He knew they were bound to lay siege at any point, but Jaime prayed they delayed as Daenerys collected herself at Dragonstone.

_She lost a dragon. She lost her friend. Surely she won’t attack immediately. She needs to be smart about it. Gods, let me get there and see this done._

At night, Jaime found little sleep. His dreams were haunted by images of Brienne alone in the courtyard as he rode away to likely death. It was a cycle of exhaustion. Jaime would ride throughout the day and attempt only a few hours of rest at night. He was weak and weary but determined.

_Get to King’s Landing. Kill Cersei. Find Brienne. Stay with Brienne._

When at least Jaime arrived at the outskirts of Jon’s camp, he was too delirious to consider his approach. It was his golden hand that did him in.

The soldiers that approached assumed his intent was to return to his sister and save her. They looked to him as they did throughout the entirety of his stay at Winterfell. Disgust.

Jaime was unceremoniously thrown into a tent and chained to a post. It felt eerily reminiscent of his captivity at Robb Stark’s camp. Despite his intent, Jaime seemed destined to be a man misunderstood. His actions forever villainized by Westeros without asking _why_.

Even Tyrion neglected to ask _why_. When his younger brother came into the tent, he also assumed that Jaime meant to return to Cersei. He never once asked about Brienne.

‘How did they find you?’

Jaime had been half awake; weary from lack of sleep in his haste to get south.

Jaime raised his golden hand in response. He always was the stupidest Lannister. It seemed only fitting that it would be his demise now.

‘You’re going to go back to her, to die with her.’

It hurt to hear Tyrion assume the worst in him. To assume he cared so little for Brienne.

_Only a moon turn ago, my brother japed at how pathetic my pining for Brienne had been. Does he truly think that I give my love so freely? Has he always thought so little of me deep down?_

A terrible bitterness took root in Jaime’s core. The only person who understood him was Brienne; the woman he left cold and crying in a courtyard in the North. Jaime let Tyrion think his assumptions true.

_What difference does any of this make. I’ve failed. Let Tyrion think what he wants. Whatever makes me feel smart. Gods forbid he doesn’t feel like the smartest man alive._

Then Tyrion produced a key and said the one thing that made Jaime’s heart skip a beat.

“We both know that you care for one innocent.”

_He truly thinks there’s a babe. While there isn’t, there is one innocent that I do care for above all others. Brienne._

Jaime hadn’t the heart to tell Tyrion at Winterfell that the babe was a lie. He had not been with Cersei in some time. If there was a babe, it wasn’t his, but Tyrion had seemed so downtrodden.

It was clear that a rift existed between him and his queen, so Jaime nodded and lied in a poor attempt to let his brother salvage some semblance of confidence.

Jaime would do anything to make his brother feel like less of a failure. He knew the feeling all too well and wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. With a deep sigh, Jaime looked down to collect himself.

_Play to his lie. Agree to whatever he thinks. Kill Cersei. Get back to Brienne. Stay with Brienne._

Tyrion made his plea to Jaime. A boat. Cersei. Essos. Every sentence hurt more. Jaime had never wanted to correct someone more than he did in that moment. He wanted to tell Tyrion how wrong he was. How the only women he _truly_ loved was at Winterfell.

_If he thinks that I do all this for Cersei, why is he risking his life for me? He thinks that I’ve turned on him. He thinks that I’ve turned on Brienne. Turned on everyone who only a moon turn earlier, I fought beside._

When Tyrion told him why, it broke Jaime. The little boy he so often defended at the Rock had no one else in this world.

Tyrion guaranteed his own death because he loved Jaime and truly thought that dying with Cersei, or attempting to escape with her, was what Jaime wanted. Jaime hadn’t the heart to tell him the truth then, just as he hadn’t the heart at Winterfell concerning the babe.

As the cuffs fell off his wrists, Jaime knew he may well be seeing his little brother for the last time. The last opportunity to ensure that Brienne knew the truth of it was fading into the shadows as Jaime crept from the tent.

_If I told him the truth of it, the truth that my happiness is at Winterfell, Tyrion wouldn’t have released me. He would have done anything to keep me safe so that I may return to Brienne. I can’t. I need to kill Cersei. I need to find Brienne. I need to stay with Brienne._


	4. Love and Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime gets to Cersei in the Keep while Brienne continues her journey south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a few warnings. It contains mention (and minor description) of a miscarriage. This is also the chapter where Brienne dies (as the tags note). It's horrible and the darkest thing that I've ever written (I HATED it), but it is important to note that she does not stay dead. This is the lowest point of the fic by far. The next couple of chapters are a bit angsty, but then it gets better. Still... I'm sorry. this is awful.

**Jaime**

Jaime ran through the tunnels below the Keep. It had been easy enough to weave through the city, and his path to Cersei was unobscured. The tunnels were as he remembered, but the darkness slowed his progress. From stories above, Jaime could hear war raging and a dragon’s battle cries.

Jaime had done as Tyrion asked. He rang the bell to signal the city’s surrender before finding his way into the tunnels. Despite Jaime’s effort, the fighting had continued. The sound of war raging above hardly surprised Jaime given the two women fighting for the crown.

When at last Jaime emerged from the bowels of the Keep, he stepped into the map room and saw her. Cersei had never looked so small. So scared. So human. Her eyes were wide in terror as pieces of the ceiling fell to the floor at her feet.

For a moment, Jaime hesitated. Memories of playing with his sister at Casterly Rock flashed in his mind. Nights spent laying on the grass under the stars beside her tugged at his heart. She had not always been a monster, but she had become one.

_She is Aerys reborn. She and Daenerys deserve one another. They deserve the Seven Hells waiting to swallow them whole._

As Cersei turned around, their eyes met. Shock flickered briefly in her eyes before desperation took hold. Unexpectedly, Cersei ran to him. A choked sob echoed off the map room was as she collided into him. 

_She thinks that I mean to save her._

The cries of the dragon circling the Keep above intensified and Jaime pushed Cersei from him. Realization flashed in her eyes and any softness on her face was gone as rage took hold.

“You took too long.”

It was a phrase that Jaime heard from her lips once before; seemingly a lifetime ago. A deadly anger began to pool in his gut as he stared into Cersei’s eyes. Unable to look away, Jaime spoke from the heart.

“I did take too long. I took too long to see you for what you are.”

Cersei’s eyes glowed like wildfire. Her face contorted in fury as she slapped Jaime hard across the face.

“I should have let the Mountain kill you when I had the chance. It’s her, isn’t it? That fucking cow. I saw it on your pathetic face that day in the dragonpit. I saw it when you returned from Riverrun after letting her past siege lines. I saw it when you returned from the Riverlands with missing a hand. I should have sent more than Bronn. When I get out of this Keep, I will send everything at her. You can moon over her rotting carcass.”

Jaime’s hand slid up towards Cersei’s throat. Hesitating for only a moment, Jaime’s fingers encircled Cersei’s pale throat. A pair of sapphire eyes danced in his mind as Cersei’s threats reminded Jaime of why he was there. Then he recalled Bran’s words.

_‘You’ll be the death of her.’ I must kill Cersei. I’ll return to Brienne. I’ll stay with Brienne._

Pushing Cersei back against a marble column at the corner of the map room, Jaime’s grip tightened. Shock flashed in Cersei’s eyes as his hold tightened. Leaning into her face, Jaime spoke through gritted teeth.

“I will choose her every time. She is my other half. She is my love. Not you.”

A strangled sob pushed passed Cersei’s lips as her hands came to his arms. Time seemed to still around them as Jaime looked over Cersei’s shoulder. The ceiling began to fall in larger sections around them, but Jaime needed to feel life leave Cersei’s body before he could let go.

_Find Brienne. Stay with Brienne._

As Cersei’s body stopped twitching beneath his grip, Jaime pulled back his face. It was only then that he realized he was crying.

Letting go of Cersei’s lifeless body, Jaime staggered backwards. A large piece of the ceiling fell only a foot from him. As the stone clattered to the floor, Jaime realized the danger he was in.

Snapped from his trance, Jaime turned to flee. The Keep shook slightly, and a dragon cried out in rage. Its cries filled the room around them and seemed to destabilize the room further.

More pieces of the ceiling fell to the floor. As the stone crashed around him, smaller chunks broke away and bounced into Jaime’s legs as he ran.

Reaching the opposite end of the room, something hit Jaime’s head with a sickening thud. Everything went black and the last thing in Jaime’s mind was a pair of sapphire eyes staring back at him.

_I love you, Brienne._

**Brienne**

It had been nearly two moon turns since Brienne left Winterfell on foot. As she passed through villages, rumors swirled of the destruction in King’s Landing. No one knew much except that the two queens had stopped at nothing to destroy one another.

Wildfire and dragonfire consumed the city. Daenerys Targaryen’s forces won, but at the cost of King’s Landing. Both queens had made Aerys seem sane by comparison.

It was unclear what was currently happening in the capital, but from what little Brienne heard, both queens were dead and the lords paramount had been summoned for a council.

Brienne prayed to the Seven for the Stark family. She prayed that Jon and Arya survived. She prayed that Sansa would be safe.

Then Brienne thought of Jaime. She remembered his warm smiles and soft eyes. She remembered the feeling of his embrace and the sound of his laughter.

_Please let him be alive. Let him mourn his sister and find true happiness and love._

Brienne had little awareness for her proximity to White Harbor. The journey had been grueling, and Brienne was both physically and emotionally exhausted. Her clothes were beginning to sag, as she caught little game to eat.

The nights were cold and Brienne’s thinning body offered little protection from the elements. Gathering kindling for a fire, Brienne felt a familiar cramping in her pelvis. When Brienne went into the woods to make water, it was then that she noticed the blood.

A wave of emotions crested over Brienne as she recalled the last time she bled. Mere days after she left Winterfell, Brienne felt an intense pain like nothing she previously endured with past moonbloods. She had stopped midday to take rest, as she found it unbearable to walk.

By that point, her previous moondblood had been 7 weeks prior. It was evident that she carried Jaime’s babe. When she sold her armor, Brienne thought it the last piece of Jaime left to her. It seemed she had been wrong.

Brienne had mused that it was not the first time Jaime left someone in her charge. As frightened as she was, Brienne committed to raising the babe to know nothing but love.

She would protect the little one to her last breath. It was never what she intended, but Brienne would do everything she could for the child. Her last piece of Jaime.

_Mayhap I will finally have someone to love me. Mayhap this babe won’t see me as the rest of the world does._

Then the cramps began, and Brienne knew.

_I’ve failed again. I’ve failed this babe as I’ve failed Jaime. Mayhap it is best that Jaime never knew. It would be one less inadequacy for him to hold against me._

The pain had been excruciating and the amount of blood that Brienne lost was worrisome. For hours, Brienne thought she might die on the forest floor. When at last the bleeding and cramping subsided, Brienne couldn’t bring herself to wash the breeches she soiled. She dug a hole in the ground with her hands and discarded the garments.

For days after, the dirt under her nails served as a cruel reminder of what she lost. The remnant bleeding mocked her every time she stopped to make water or change her moonblood cloths.

Down to her last pair of breeches, Brienne had continued forward under Sansa’s orders. As she walked through the thawing landscape, Brienne lamented that the babe had been her last chance at companionship.

Brienne feared the nighttime the most. The nights were cold and lonely; a harsh reminder of the lack of warmth and love in her life. Every night Brienne curled close to the fire and tried to imagine a world where she could be someone else.

Sleep was difficult to come by given she had no one to tend the campfire with. When Brienne did find sleep, her dreams were haunted by her many failures. Soon, Brienne found it easier to avoid sleep altogether. It seemed to hurt less than the visions she saw behind her closed lids.

As her strength faded from lack of sleep and food, Brienne pressed on. She held onto the one silver stag in her sack as a savings for White Harbor. She would need more still, but Brienne hoped to earn some coin before reaching the port city.

Eating what little she could find in way of berries and vegetation, Brienne began to slip in and out of consciousness over the last fortnight. The roads were getting more dangerous to travel as soldiers returning from King’s Landing made their way north.

Most of the men didn’t recognize Brienne as she begged for scraps of food. She was glad of it, as she felt like little more than an undesirable camp follower. The only thing worse was when the men did recognize her. They looked to Brienne in confusion before throwing stale bread at her and continuing forward.

That evening as Brienne padded her smallclothes with cloth for her moonblood, Brienne cried quietly at the reminder of her empty womb. Curling onto her side, Brienne struggled to remain awake as her body began to succumb to weeks of limited sustenance and a miscarriage.

When Brienne next opened her eyes, she heard approaching voices. The sun’s first rays were poking through the heavily wooded area around her. Brienne was nearly frozen to the ground as her fire appeared to have gone out some hours earlier.

_Gods. How long did I sleep for?_

Forcing herself to sit upright, Brienne’s entire body cried out in protest. Her limbs hurt and her extremities were numb. She saw a dozen men step into the small clearing off the main road.

Brienne reprimanded herself for camping so close to the main road, but she had been so tired and desperate for food from passing soldiers that she ignored the danger.

_I know these men. These are the Bolton men._

“Fuckin’ hells! Look who it is boys! The Kingslayer’s Whore.”

Struggling to stand, Brienne tried to focus her eyes. Brienne could feel the threat settling over the small clearing.

_I need to flee._

As if sensing her thoughts, the men lunged forward and tackled her violently to the forest floor. Rough hands and feet landed blows to her ribs, face, and stomach. Curling into a ball, Brienne tried to will them away, but they only grew more violent.

“Fuckin’ whore! Ya almost cost us the war!”

A man’s foul-smelling breath assaulted her nose as his face pressed close. “This the best ya got!? Ya can’t fight worth shit. No wonder no one knighted ya before the Kingslayer.”

A third man’s voice filled the air. He laughed loudly before joining in the assault against her. “She ain’t no knight! Kill the fuckin’ bitch. Show ‘er what she’s worth.”

The blows came harder. Mirroring the physical assault, each taunt came crueler and more vicious than the next. Brienne wanted to cry, but she had no tears left. After losing Jaime and the babe, she felt hollow, unloved, and alone.

Eventually the assault stopped, and Brienne thought they had grown bored of attacking a nearly lifeless body. Then she felt the rope around her neck. The men hauled her to her feet and dragged her towards a tree. They placed something around her, but Brienne was too weak to recognize what it was.

It felt impossible to stay upright, but rough hands kept her in place. Within moments, Brienne felt herself being hoisted from the ground. The men tied off the rope and stepped back to watch her flailing limbs reaching out desperately for aid.

_Please. Help. I can’t breathe._

As laughter filled the space around her, a pair of green eyes flashed in her mind. They seemed happy and alive, but then they landed on her and the joy within them died.

_Stay with me. Please. Don’t let me die alone._

The eyes turned away from Brienne and all she could hear was the men’s laughter. As the air left her lungs and her limbs began to still, Brienne felt the Stranger’s arms wrapping around her.

_I just wanted to be loved._


	5. Life and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime sees the consequences of his actions.

**Jaime**

Jaime stood in the Red Keep surrounded by dust and destruction. Waving his flesh hand before his face to push away the smoke, he squinted into the distance. Voices echoed off the walls around him as Jaime tried to gather his bearings.

Looking up, Jaime could see light streaming in through the breaks in the ceiling. Smoke obscured much of the air, but enough filtered through to illuminate the room.

_Seven hells. How big was that bloody brick? This room didn’t look this bad when I killed Cersei._

As Jaime glanced down, his eyes went wide in shock. There at his feet was his own body. Blood trickled down his temple as his body lay motionless and covered in debris on the floor.

_I’m dead. I didn’t make it out._

“This is your after, Ser Jaime.”

Turning around to confront the voice he knew all too well, Jaime’s eyes went wide. He was face to face with Brandon Stark.

_Seven hells. He can walk!_

“Bran. Are we dead? I thought you were at Winterfell?”

Bran smiled slightly and shook his head. “No, we’re not dead. You could have died, but you’re alive; just rather unconscious. I imagine you’re going to have quite the headache when you wake up.”

A wave of relief washed over Jaime.

“Thank the gods. How are you here? Is this a dream?”

Bran moved closer and stared down at Jaime’s body. “No, this is real. It’s the only way that I could show you.”

“Show me what?”

At Jaime’s question, the voices he had heard only moments earlier grew louder. Emerging from the dust, Jaime saw Tyrion, Jon, and Arya. They looked as though they walked through the seven hells and back again.

All three seemed exhausted and downtrodden. It was Arya who spoke first.

“Jon. You can’t support her after this. You see what she did to the city. We all could have died.”

At her side, Jon sighed and looked around the room in dismay. “What are you asking of me, Arya? I… I can’t abandon her. She is my queen.”

_Gods. I knew it. The boy is in love with her._

Tyrion had wandered off from the pair of bickering siblings. His eyes seemed to be searching for something in the destruction. When Tyrion caught sight of Cersei, he gasped and approached slowly.

Reaching his sister’s lifeless body, Tyrion outstretched his hand to Cersei’s pale, cold skin. Trembling fingers felt for a pulse that was not there. His head hung as he felt nothing but death.

“She’s here. Jaime didn’t make it to her in time.”

It was then that Jaime remembered the lie he played into. Striding quickly across the room to Tyrion, Jaime reached out to grab his brother’s shoulder.

“I’m here Tyrion. Her death was by my hand.”

Jaime’s hand went through Tyrion’s body as though a fog cutting across tree limbs. Moving to his side, Bran spoke impassively.

“If you recall, your body is behind you. He can’t hear you. These are visions of what happened.”

Jon and Arya joined Tyrion and appraised Cersei’s body. While Jon looked sympathetically at Tyrion, Arya’s brows knitted in confusion. Her eyes squinted as she assessed Cersei’s body. Crouching at Tyrion’s side, her fingers traced Cersei’s neck.

“I think he got to her in time. She was strangled.”

At Arya’s nonchalant statement, Tyrion’s head turned quickly to her. “What!? How do you know?”

Arya snorted and looked around. “There isn’t a single puncture wound. There is no blood nor sign of trauma from falling debris. Her neck already has signs of bruising. Look at the fingerprints. A left hand did this.”

The young wolf pulled back one of Cersei’s eyelids to reveal a bloodshot eye. “Look. She was strangled Tyrion. He got here. You said he rang the bells, but the boat is still out there, and Cerise is quite dead here.”

Tyrion ran a hand through his hair as his jaw slackened. “No, someone else did this. Jaime came to save her. He came all this way…”

Jon sighed and looked to Tyrion. “We searched the tunnels. As Arya said, the boat is untouched. Mayhap Ser Jaime got out in time after killing her. Mayhap it was another lefthanded soldier who killed her, and your brother is in the city somewhere. He wouldn’t have been able to get back out though.”

Standing and backing up slowly, Tyrion shook his head in disbelief. “No… Jaime wouldn’t have. He… he loved…”

Jaime’s frustration was its tipping point as he watched Tyrion struggle to see the obvious. “Brienne! Gods, Tyrion! I love Brienne.”

Tyrion tripped over some debris and nearly fell to the ground. As his body twisted and his arm reached out for purchase, Tyrion caught sight of something. Once he righted himself, his eyes locked in on Jaime’s body in the distance.

“No! Gods, please.”

Stumbling towards Jamie, Tyrion fell to his knees. His hands came to each side of Jaime’s face as his forehead touched Jaime’s. With a loud sob, Tyrion pulled Jaime’s head onto his lap. Arya and Jon approached as Jaime and Bran watched on.

“He thinks I’m dead.”

Bran hummed slightly and shrugged. “You rather look it. Thank the gods you have a hard head.”

As if expecting a response, Tyrion looked down at his brother’s motionless body. He threw debris from Jaime’s body and he screamed in mix of despair and rage. “Jaime. What have you done?!”

At Tyrion’s question, Jaime scoffed. “Did you hear nothing that I said at Winterfell!? I was done with Cersei. I love Brienne. Why does everyone have so little faith in me?”

Jon and Arya crouched at Tyrion’s side. They felt for a pulse and exchanged shocked looks.

“Tyrion. He’s alive.”

Jon’s words breathed new hope into Tyrion. He placed his head to Jaime’s chest; a strangled sob pushed passed his lips. “You idiot. You fucking idiot, Jaime! Why?”

“Why!? Now you ask ‘why’!? For Brienne!”

As Jaime screamed from beside Bran, a slight murmur escaped Jaime’s body just a few feet away. It was barely discernable, but Jaime heard it from behind the battle-weary trio before him.

“Brienne.”

Bran snorted and raised a brow. “I wonder if that will make it clear enough. The things you do for love.”

Moving closer, Jaime’s brows knitted as he watched his near lifeless form continue to mumble Brienne’s name repeatedly. A small smile spread across his face as he watched realization dawn on Tyrion’s face.

“Gods. How could I have missed it? Brienne. I need to get him to Brienne.”

Arya rolled her eyes at Tyrion. “At this moment, he appears more likely to greet the Stranger than Brienne. Perhaps we start by getting him out of here before Daenerys feeds him to her dragon.”

Jon leaned down and appraised Jaime’s head and body. “Aye, Arya has the right of it. We need to get him to that boat or hidden somewhere. He needs a maester.”

Arya glanced back at Cersei and shook her head. “We need to think this through. We either tell Daenerys the truth of his involvement and hope she believes us, or we swear the army to silence that he never arrived south.”

“No. Her men were there. The Unsullied were guarding Jaime when I let him go free. I’m already a dead man, but I can save my brother. I can ensure he gets to Brienne. To happiness.”

Jaime felt panic rise. “No! No! Bran, can’t you do something!? Tyrion needs to leave. She’ll kill him.”

Shaking his head, Bran sighed. “They can’t hear us.”

“They just heard me when I said Brienne’s name! Mayhap I just need to shout again.” Jaime dropped to Tyrion’s side and looked to him frantically.

“Tyrion! Run! Please, run!”

Looking at his body, Jaime wanted to cry when it seemed to do little more than take shallow breaths and mutter Brienne’s name.

“These events already happened. I’m showing you the past.”

Before Jaime could question Bran’s statement, Arya spoke at Tyrion’s side. “I have an idea. I’ll kill Daenerys.”

Jon stepped back as if slapped. “Arya, no. You can’t. They’ll kill you for it and I can’t… I can’t let you do that.”

Tyrion stood and looked to Jon. “You’re the rightful king, not her. You saw what she did out there. We both chose her, and we were wrong. The people of King’s Landing did not choose her, but they suffered for our decisions.”

_Rightful king?_

Jaime turned to Bran who stood impassively at his back. It was as though he knew how it would all play out before it did.

Shaking his head in refute, Jon took another step away; his face was riddled with pain. “No. I can’t justify what she did, but the war is over now. I can talk to her. Get her to see reason. I won’t let harm befall Ser Jaime. You have my word. It seems that he aided our cause and mayhap once she sees for herself...”

With a frustrated sigh, Tyrion shook his head and cut off Jon. “Did you see that look on her face when the bells rang? Did that look like someone done fighting? Jaime rang the bells. She didn’t stop despite the Lannister army standing down. Fire and blood. That is what she is.”

Arya grabbed Jon’s arm. “Tyrion has the right of it. You are the rightful king. Let me do this. I was down there among the people, Jon. She wasn’t torching the enemy. She was aiming at everyone in her path. Her only goal was death and destruction.”

“She was upset! Her dragon was killed before her eyes. Her friend was beheaded in front of her.” Jon’s frustration was palpable. Jaime’s eyes darted between Jon, Arya, and Tyrion. It was Tyrion who spoke next, but much more calmly than moments earlier.

“Would you have done it? If those things happened to you, would you have done _that_ to King’s Landing? My brother strangled his twin, the woman he loved for most of his life, to stop her from killing innocents. What of you, Aegon?”

_Aegon?_

“Bran, why did my brother call Jon that? What is going on outside the Keep?”

Bran’s voice floated through the space as though they were the only two there. “In time, Ser Jaime. Not now.”

Jon’s voice drew Jaime’s attention back to the trio standing near his body. “What are you thinking Arya? I won’t let you endanger yourself. They’ll kill you.”

A wolfish smile stretched across her face. “I won’t be killing her. Cersei will. I just need you to pretend at killing Cersei. Make it seem real. Take her body and bring it before the Unsullied. Make them believe.”

Without another word, Arya withdrew her blade and walked over to Cersei’s lifeless body. Bending down, she began to cut away at something. Jaime’s eyes went wide as he looked to Jon and Tyrion who looked equally perplexed.

Glancing back at Bran, Jaime watched as the boy’s expression shifted from blank to amused. Turning back around, Jaime gasped and stumbled backwards. Standing before them was Cersei. As he tripped over his own body, Bran’s arms caught him.

“Need a hand?”

Jaime felt his heart hammering in his chest as he forced his eyes back at Cersei.

_Gods. Arya is a Faceless Man._

“I don’t want to see this. I can’t.”

While Cersei had died by Jaime’s hand, he had not defiled her body in such a way. He wanted nothing to do with what came next.

Bran spun Jaime around and met his eyes. “You’ll remain ignorant to this, because now you need to understand why I’m here. I need you to see the true impact of your actions. Cersei’s death would have happened with or without you here to see the life drain from her eyes.”

“What do you mean. You told me that I would be the death of her.”

Jaime’s brows knitted in confusion. He tried to read Bran’s features, but the boy’s face gave away nothing.

“Wrong _her_. Close your eyes.”

Jaime hesitated slightly, but he followed Bran’s instructions. Everything around him felt still. For a moment, he wondered if Bran had left. Then Jaime heard Bran’s voice again.

“She was never safe here. Open your eyes.”

Jaime opened his eyes. Shock coursed through him as he realized where he was.

_Winterfell._

Then Jaime saw her. Brienne walked past him and towards the hall. Judging by the poor light filtering in through the windows, Jaime knew it to be early morning.

“Brienne! Wait!”

Moving after her, Jaime felt a hand at his shoulder. “She can’t hear you. Like the aftermath of battle in King’s Landing, these are visions of the past.”

Bran guided Jaime forward and into the hall. Only a handful of soldiers shuffled about, breaking their fast. He watched as Brienne sat down at their usual table. It always struck Jaime as odd that Brienne ate alone.

These men knew her, and they should be happy to share a meal with her. A part of Jaime wondered if she at alone for his sake. The men likely would not welcome Jaime when he eventually joined Brienne.

Moving towards the table that Brienne sat at, Jaime stood before her. He watched as she pushed around the porridge in her plate. It all felt so familiar.

“I was still here then.”

Then Jaime heard the voices and he could tell that Brienne did to.

“Can’t believe they stuck the fuckin’ woman with me again. Kingslayer’s Whore.”

The men snickered before another continued.

“Ser Whore now. What a fuckin’ joke. I heard he only knighted her to bed her.”

Rage coursed through Jaime’s veins as he looked to the men. His flesh hand balled into a fist and he moved towards the table of men, but Bran grabbed his shoulder once more.

“That won’t do any good. You can’t harm them anymore than you can erase the words. These are hardly the first words of their kind to reach her ears. She has been a jape all her life, but the words have never been so harsh as those spoken since she left the feast and you followed. These words are almost kind in comparison.”

Bran’s voice was no longer his as he relayed some of the things spat at Brienne. Listening to the litany of insults and cruel japes, Jaime looked back to Brienne. The pain in her eyes was evident as the men mocked her.

Jaime felt his heart sink. He looked to Bran and shook his head. “She never said anything to me.”

“What would she have said? Everything these men say, she believes herself.”

Jaime’s jaw went slack. “How could she think that? I…”

_I never told her. I never told her that I love her. I just kept bedding her and sulking about the castle grounds. I kept worrying over whether Bronn might return with that fucking crossbow._

As if reading his mind, Bran shrugged. “There’s more.”

Grabbing Jaime’s shoulders, Bran spun him around hard. When Jaime steadied himself, he realized that he was no longer in the great hall. Sansa sat behind her desk with a pot of steaming tea on her desk and a quill in hand.

Writing furiously, the young Stark poured herself some tea and sighed. A knock at the door caught Jaime’s attention and Sansa called out for the visitor to enter. Jaime watched as Brienne walked in slowly.

“What’s wrong with her? She looks… broken.”

Bran stood at Jaime’s side and appraised Brienne. “This is the day after you left.”

Jaime watched as Brienne sat down opposite Sansa and took the offered tea. She gave voice to the reason for her visit and Jaime cringed at Sansa’s reaction.

“Why did he leave?”

Brienne shifted in her seat and swallowed thickly. “For… for Cersei.”

“Because she is the _only_ woman he loves.” Sansa’s words felt like a slap to Jaime’s face.

“Yes, my lady.”

_What!? No! I don’t love her! I love you!_

Sansa snorted and raised a brow. “So he spoke no words of love to you? No promises?”

“No, my lady.”

Jaime shook his head and kneeled at Brienne’s side. “I would have! I will! I just need to wake up. I’ll stay. I never wanted to leave.”

Bran sighed and shook his head. “We’ve been through this. This is the past. She can’t hear or see you.”

Then Jaime listened in horror as venom dripped from Sansa’s mouth.

“You were at Joffrey’s wedding. Cersei spoke to you. I assume you recall what she looks like. Did you truly believe someone like _him_ could desire someone like _you_ after having _her_? You betrayed us when you let him ride south to save his twin. You betrayed me. You _failed_ me.”

Jaime’s heart sank and he turned to Bran. “How could your sister say these things to Brienne? Brienne has done nothing but give every ounce of herself to keeping Sansa safe!”

Before Bran could answer, Sansa’s cold words reached Jaime’s ears once more.

“…Clearly you didn’t even see how he was using you to get information for his sister. And what do you think will happen if Cersei survives this? You must know that she will come for me next? Now he rides south with full knowledge of our plans. You do recall our agreement, correct? Are you here to offer your head?”

Panic coursed through Jaime and he glanced to Bran. “Wake me up! I need to get to Brienne! She isn’t safe.”

Bran put up a calming hand and shook his head. “My sister has exiled her. Again, this is the past. These things have already happened.”

As Jaime turned around, he was suddenly outside Winterfell. He watched as Brienne gave Oathkeeper to Pod. He watched as her coin was taken and she was denied a horse. He watched as she traded her armor for a pathetic sum of coin. He watched her walk away with only a sack on her back.

“I need to find her. She isn’t safe traipsing about like that! Has she already left for Essos?” Jaime stood in the center of Wintertown as he looked over his shoulder to Bran. A rare human expression tugged at Bran’s features. Sorrow. 

“I’m sorry for what you’ll see next.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed and he turned around. They were in a heavily wooded area in the bitter cold. His eyes scanned the area and he saw a figure in the distance. A mess of blonde hair stuck out from a body writhing in pain on the ground.

“Brienne!”

Running forward, Jaime crashed to the ground before Brienne. There was blood all over her breeches as Brienne curled in on herself.

“What’s wrong with her! Gods. She’s bleeding!”

Looking back at Bran, Jaime watched as the young man slowly walked around Brienne with the same sorrowful expression on his face.

“She lost the babe.”

_The babe. She was with child? My child._

Regret coursed through Jaime as he watched Brienne struggle through the pain. He wanted to hold her and comfort her, but all he could do was watch.

“Brienne. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I… I didn’t think.”

As Bran crouched at Jaime’s side, he spoke in a hollow tone. “The tea that my sister gave her that day was moon tea. Sansa didn’t know, but she acted as a precaution. She wanted to ensure that when Brienne left, there was no chance that any part of you lived on.”

Jaime screamed and pounded the frozen ground at his sides. He leaned over Brienne and wanted to console her, but he couldn’t.

“Please, Bran. Let me wake up. I need to get to Brienne.” Tears began to streak down Jaime’s face as he watched Brienne struggle through the pain on the unforgiving ground. He closed his eyes as if willing the vision away. Bran’s voice filled the darkness around him.

“As I said, you’ll be the death of her.”

At Bran’s cryptic words, Jaime opened his eyes. Brienne was no longer on the ground before him. His eyes lifted upwards and he saw her body swaying in the breeze. It was a scene eerily reminiscent of the three tavern girls they happened upon in the Riverlands years ago.

Brienne’s battered body had a sign draped around it. “Kingslayer’s Whore”

Grief and rage consumed Jaime. He buried his head in his hands. It felt as though his heart had been cut out of his chest and thrown to the wolves.

“Why!?”

Bran crouched at his side and spoke solemnly. “Those Bolton soldiers were dismissed on their way to King’s Landing. Them and others were escorting us south, but when some of the more trusted men intercepted us on the kingsroad, Sansa sent the Bolton men away. On their travel home, they came upon Brienne at the side of the clearing. I didn’t show you that. I didn’t want you to see the life leave her eyes.”

Jaime sobbed and looked back up at Brienne’s swaying body. He had never felt more broken as he stared up at the dead body of the woman he loved. Knowing it was his fault made it infinitely worse.

_It’s my fault. I was the death of her. She didn’t deserve any of this._

“I need to get to her. She deserves a proper burial. I’ll take her body home to Tarth. Please. Let me wake up.”

Bran stood upright and reached down to grab Jaime by the jerkin. Pulling Jaime upright, Bran spoke again, but Jaime found himself unable to look at Brienne’s swaying body.

“It’s time for you to wake up. When you do, you aren’t going to take her body to Tarth. You’re going to take it to Essos.”

Jaime opened his eyes in confusion. The tears in his eyes made Bran’s face little more than a blur. “I didn’t want you to see the life leave her, but you need to see the life return to her. You’re going to take her to Kinvara, the red priestess. She will bring Brienne back to you, but you need to hurry. Jon will take you. Now wake up.”

Grabbing Jaime forcefully, Bran locked eyes with Jaime. “The things you do for love.” Bran pushed Jaime hard in the chest. It felt like a cruel reversal of when Jaime pushed Bran in the tower. As Jaime fell backwards, he seemed to plummet forever. It felt as though he couldn’t breathe, but then he woke up.

Sitting upright, Jaime screamed as he took in his surroundings. He was in the Red Keep. Bronn was at his bedside, half-awake in a chair.

“Brienne! Brienne!”

Bronn put stilling hands on Jaime’s chest and screamed into the hallway. “Pod! Poddy boy, he’s awake! Lets get him to Jon.”


	6. Truths and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting at the dragonpit - Sansa POV

As Arya wheeled Bran into the dragonpit, Sansa huffed in annoyance at Bran’s mental absence. The whites of his eyes were a sight that Sansa had come to loathe since Bran’s return to Winterfell.

It felt like the physical manifestation of the distance between Sansa and her siblings. In many ways, they were as foreign to her now. Arya had become a Faceless Man. Jon had become a Targaryen prince. Bran had become a raven.

Sansa cared deeply for her family above all others, but from what she had observed over the last years, Sansa felt them all ill-equipped to rule.

_None of them are fit to lead. They’ve all had an identity crisis. I’m the only true Stark remaining._

Initially, Sansa backed Jon when the vassals declared him king in the North. Then he bent to the Targaryen and Sansa’s confidence in him was as broken as her faith in Brienne had been.

Looking around the pit, Sansa noted the presence of her deplorable uncle, the bumbling Tarly boy, her pitiful cousin with Lord Royce at his side, and a would be pirate who avoided the war despite backing Daenerys.

The other attendees were less known to Sansa. Another vassal from the Reach sat beside Sam, though his House sigil was unfamiliar to Sansa. The newly legitimized Gendry Baratheon was present, but Sansa wondered at the presence of Ser Davos and the largest man she had ever seen.

Further down the line, an empty seat struck Sansa as odd. She imagined that Jon would name someone from the West to rule in place of House Lannister. The Unsullied had arrested Tyrion for defying Daenerys and allowing the Kingslayer to go free to his sister-lover.

Lastly, a Dornish man sat with a most unamused expression on his face. Sansa gathered that he was a distant member of House Martell, which had mostly been eradicated thanks to Cersei’s efforts.

_Yet another House destroyed by House Lannister. Just as they destroyed House Tyrell. Just as the aimed to destroy House Stark._

Jon walked towards the dragonpit with Grey Worm and a chained Tyrion. A huff of laughter pushed passed Sansa’s lips. Looking to her former husband, a smile quirked at her lips.

_Mayhap I will get to see the fall of House Lannister and not just the twins. I thought Tyrion would prove little more than the final piece to move in an effort to unseat Daenerys. It seems he got himself into a fine mess in the process._

As they stood at the center of the pit, Sansa plastered a false smile to her face. She would back Jon’s claim as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne only to immediately demand the North’s independence. She knew that Jon would afford it to her. Were it not for her, Sansa was convinced that none of them would be alive.

At Sansa’s side, Bran’s eyes rolled forward. He breathed deeply and nodded to Jon. A slight acknowledgement flitted across Jon’s face before he spoke to the group.

“I thank you all for gathering today. Among us we have every kingdom represented for what is to be the start of a new era in Westeros. As you know, Queen Daenerys was murdered by Queen Cersei after we believed the battle won. I regret that I was too late in getting to our queen to save her, but we have righted the wrong. Before we begin, I thought it would be best to introduce ourselves.”

Sansa grumbled slightly at the words.

_Typical Jon._

Looking to Sam, Jon nodded for the young man to begin. Sam stood and clasped his hands nervously. “Hello. I’m Samwell of House Tarly. I was asked by Jon to attend on behalf of the Reach. While Queen Cersei killed those bearing the Tyrell name, the line is not dead. I bring with me Ser Jon Fossoway. He is wed to Lady Janna Tyrell who is next in line for Highgarden. It is Ser Jon who represents the Reach now and our vassals pledged fealty.”

Ser Jon nodded to the others assembled as Sam sat down. To their side, Edmure stood and introduced himself, Sansa struggled to suppress an exaggerated eye roll as her uncle rambled endlessly.

_Gods. Fitting that he sits near Sam. What a pair they make._

After Edmure took his seat, Sansa stood on behalf of her siblings. “I am Lady Sansa of House Stark. Eldest surviving child of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. I’m joined by my surviving siblings, Arya and Brandon Stark. I will speak on behalf of the North at Jon’s behest.”

Looking to her left, Sansa watched as Davos stood. “Hello. I’m Ser Davos of the Stormlands. Some of you may know that Queen Daenerys legitimized the only surviving trueborn son of King Robert Baratheon, Lord Gendry.”

Davos pointed to the young man whose demeanor demonstrated little desire to be present. In response, Gendry offered an uncomfortable smile at the introduction before Davos continued.

“Lord Gendry has no desire to claim Storm’s End. The vassals of the Stormlands have instead named Lord Selwyn Tarth as Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. I’ve known Lord Tarth for many years, and I can say that there is no better man to lead our kingdom. I believe most of you know his daughter, Ser Brienne.”

A proud smile stretched across the knight’s face as he glanced to those assembled. Sansa wanted to laugh at the words.

_Gods. How pathetic. If Selwyn is anything like his daughter, the Stormlands are doomed. Wait until this man comes to find out why his daughter was knighted._

For his part, Selwyn looked unmoved. There was a hint of sorrow clouding his face as his eyes remained fixed on the ground before him. A fleeting feeling of regret tugged at Sansa’s heart before she pushed the feeling away. She buried it deep in the recesses of her soul as she reminded herself of Brienne’s betrayal.

To the left of the Stormlands contingent, Yara Greyjoy stood proudly. “I’m Yara Greyjoy, Lady of Iron Islands. We were granted our independence by Queen Daenerys before the war in King’s Landing. I aim to see that honored here.”

Sansa snorted and crossed her arms.

_What good are promises made from a queen who never formally held the crown. It’s as useless as her legitimization of Gendry. Truly, it’s the one thing that I’ll respect the Stormlands for. Even they don’t honor Daenerys’ nonsense._

Robin stood from down the line. He had changed much since Sansa last saw him. Now a man grown, Robin addressed the group. “I’m Lord Robert of House Arryn. I’ve requested Lord Royce to join me and offer council at these proceedings.”

Finally, the Dornish representative stood and addressed the group.

“I am Ser Manfrey Martell, Castellan of Sunspear. Prince Doran was my cousin and I am all that remains of my House thanks to the prior crown.”

Sansa felt for the man. She knew all too well the feeling of loss at the hands of House Lannister. With the members of the summit introduced, Sansa glanced back at Jon.

Her bastard brother turned legitimate cousin and heir to the Iron Throne spoke confidently.

“For most of my life, many of you have known me as the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. That was a lie he honored to protect me from the crown. My true name is Aegon Targaryen. I am the last surviving Targaryen of the mad king’s line. Queen Daenerys was my aunt. I bent the knee to her and fought for her in the war against Queen Cersei of House Baratheon.”

_House Baratheon. Gods, Jon. Call her what she was. A fucking Lannister. That is who we fought. That is who came for us._

Jon looked pointedly at Grey Worm.

“I do not stand by her actions here in King’s Landing. Innocent lives were lost despite the city’s surrender. That is _not_ the woman I bent the knee to. I know that is not the woman her armies from across the Narrow Sea intended to follow.”

The Unsullied commander bit his lip and tensed, but he did not refute the statement. Sansa could feel the tension in the air as Jon continued.

“I will not take the crown if any of you doubt my ability to lead based on my lineage and what you have seen here in King’s Landing. I can only say that I am not Aerys’ grandson. I am Lyanna Stark’s son. I was raised by my uncle, Lord Eddard Stark. I do not recognize fire and blood. It is not the type of rule that I would impose on Westeros.”

At Jon’s words, Sam looked to Ser Jon and nodded. The older knight stood and met Jon’s eyes. “I know House Tarly well. If Lord Sam tells me that you are fit to lead, the Reach would back you.”

Seizing the opportunity, Sansa stood. “I can vouch for my cousin. He is a Stark and beyond dragon riding, I’ve not seen a touch of Targaryen influence in him. I have seen him lead the North. They named him king over me and other trueborn Starks based on his ability to lead. The North would back him.”

A small smile tugged at Jon’s lips when he met Sansa’s eyes. Grumbling from his seat, Edmure looked to Jon. “The Riverlands would follow you. I know the quality of House Stark through my sister and her children.”

Sansa heard Lord Royce speaking with Robin to her left. Glancing at her cousin, she saw Robin nod before looking to Jon.

“The Vale will follow you. You kept my cousin safe, restored House Stark’s ancestral seat, and led the defense of the living against the dead.”

Ser Manfrey huffed a small laugh from down the row. With a slight shrug, he looked to Jon. “If you killed that bitch Cersei Lannister, that is good enough for me. You have Dorne’s support.”

Davos and Selwyn could be heard speaking to Sansa’s left. Appraising the man, Sansa chastised herself for not immediately recognizing him as kin to Brienne. The man was larger than the Mountain with hair like Brienne and emotive blue eyes to match. His skin was weathered, likely from living on an island for a lifetime.

Glancing at Jon, Selwyn’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Ser Davos tells me that my daughter fought for House Stark. That she served as sworn sword.”

Selwyn glanced down the line at Sansa. His expression was difficult to discern and it unnerved Sansa. She shifted slightly in her seat, but she did not break eye contact.

Slowly turning back to Jon, Selwyn nodded. “If my daughter served House Stark and they make claim that you are more them than Targaryen, I would support you. My daughter is a sound judge of character. The Stormlands will back you."

Sansa released a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. The atmosphere was tense as she looked to Yara. It seemed laughable that the Iron Islands were being offered say.

“Will the Iron Islands be granted its independence under your rule?”

Jon huffed a small laugh and shook his head. “I am not privy to any arrangements you had with Queen Daenerys. The Iron Islands are part of Westeros and should remain as such. You are too valuable an ally to lose. I would see the Iron Islands under your leadership, but you would still pledge fealty.”

Yara huffed in frustration and studied Jon. It seemed she didn’t have much ground to stand on given Daenerys was dead. Glancing around to those assembled, Yara conceded. “Aye. The Iron Islands backs your claim.”

Jon nodded in thanks. “It seems that we have all accounted for save the West.”

As his eyes drifted to Tyrion, Jon smiled. “Before we get to that, we must tend to the matter of Lord Tyrion Lannister. He served as Hand to Queen Daenerys and was imprisoned for releasing his brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, before the siege of King’s Landing. Ser Jaime had been falsely imprisoned under erroneous assumption that he was returning to aid his sister. Instead, he did as Lord Tyrion asked. He rang the bells to signal the surrender of King’s Landing. Ser Jaime fought _against_ his sister. Queen Cersei’s forces lowered their weapons, but Queen Daenerys attacked anyway. I believe we have no ground to imprison Lord Tyrion. It seems that with Lord Tyrion’s backing of my claim, I would be within my right as King to set him free.”

_What? That is a lie! The Kingslayer is our enemy! The mean to glorify his death when he meant to aid Cersei!_

Rage began to pool in Sansa’s core as Tyrion raised his hands to Grey Worm. A cold expression lined Tyrion’s face as he briefly glanced to Sansa. “I more than agree, though to be fair, I have very little authority to speak on behalf of the West. I would defer to my lord brother and Warden of the West.”

_He defers to a ghost. Gods, Tyrion is much changed. He used to be the most intelligent man that I knew. Now he’s little more than a fool._

As the chains fell from Tyrion’s wrists and he walked to the chair, Tyrion glared at Sansa. Her brows knitted in confusion at the cold greeting from Tyrion. Glancing to her siblings, Sansa saw a wide smile stretch across Bran’s lips.

A huff of laughter pushed passed Jon’s lips. “Your backing is sufficient. Thank you, Lord Tyrion. I’m sorry for all you’ve lost in these wars.”

Addressing the larger group, Jon spoke commandingly. “I thank you all for your support. There is one matter left to address before we adjourn.”

Standing from her seat, Sansa interrupted her cousin’s mindless rambling. “Actually, your Grace, I wish to say something. I don’t know what you intend to discuss, but I hope it would only concern the _Six_ Kingdoms. The North declares its independence. No other kingdom aside from the Vale answered the call to save humanity from the threat of the dead. Even then, the Vale only answered the call at my behest. Our kingdom has suffered great losses at the hand of southern rulers. Our House was nearly wiped out by House Lannister. A House that _should_ be stripped of its lands and titles.”

Sansa took pause and glanced to Tyrion who stood resolutely behind the empty chair. With the utmost confidence, Sansa tilted her chin and continued.

“We will work with you to ensure peace between our kingdoms, but we cannot bend the knee.”

Jon raised a brow; his eyes darting to Arya.

“Arya, as Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North, do you and your betrothed, Lord Gendry, intend to declare open rebellion?”

Arya smirked at Gendry and stood confidently. “No, your Grace. House Stark pledges fealty to you.”

“What!?” An incredulous expression tugged at Sansa’s features. Looking to Jon, she noted his stern expression.

“Is something wrong, Lady Sansa? You seem at odds with the Lady of Winterfell.”

“I am the Lady of Winterfell!”

Jon’s face fell into one of pity as he shook his head. “I’m sorry Sansa, but after your actions, I cannot see you named Lady of anything. You are henceforth stripped of your lands and titles.”

Nodding to Grey Worm, Sansa watched in horror as the Unsullied strode quickly towards her with chains in hand. Backing up, Sansa fell into her chair and looked to her siblings in horror.

“What is going on!? What are you all doing!?”

In the distance, loud voices caught her attention. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Jaime Lannister storming towards the dragonpit with Bronn at his heels. Jaime’s head was heavily bound, and he looked paler than a ghost.

At his arrival, Jon turned to greet Jaime. He raised a hand to stop Jaime’s mounting protest. They spoke in urgent, hushed whispers, but it was Bran’s voice that calmed Jaime. “Just a moment more Ser Jaime. Then you will be on your way.”

Jaime’s face was panicked as Jon guided him towards the vacant seat that Tyrion stood behind. “Please, Ser Jaime. I know. We’ll leave momentarily.”

As Jaime’s eyes fell on Sansa, rage flashed across his face. He began to move from his seat, but Jon held him down.

“What the fuck is she doing here!? I’ll kill her myself!”

_What is going on? What is happening._

Sansa was quickly chained and pulled roughly from her seat by Grey Worm and another of his men. They dragged her kicking and screaming to the center of the dragonpit. As all eyes fell on Sansa, Jon turned to face her. In the moment, Jon’s face looked so much like her father before judgement was passed.

“Lady Sansa Stark, you stand accused of treason. You stand accused of murder. You stand accused of conspiracy. How do you answer these charges?”

Sansa felt an overwhelming panic set in. Her voice was laced with desperation. “Jon! Please! I’ve done nothing!”

An eerie silence settled over the dragonpit as Bran’s calm voice drifted through the open stadium.

“You defied the commands of your King in the North by working against Queen Daenerys. You defied his orders to keep his lineage a secret. It contributed to Queen Daenerys’ descent into madness; just as you planned. You planted seeds of doubt and mistrust among the allied forces. You conspired to see to the demise of House Lannister. It drove you to commit murder.”

“Murder!? I’ve murdered no one!”

To her right, Jaime again tried to stand from his seat, but Jon, Lord Royce, and Bronn held him down as he clawed to get to Sansa.

“No one!? You murdered my child you hateful bitch!”

_His child? How I wish I killed Joffrey! I didn’t touch his bastards!_

Arya stood from her seat and walked towards Sansa. The tone in her voice reminded Sansa of Littlefinger’s trial.

“You gave Ser Brienne moon tea that killed her and Ser Jaime’s unborn babe. She nearly died on the forest floor while enduring her _walk_ to White Harbor. You told the stable master not to allow her a horse to travel, but he did take her coin.”

Sansa’s face betrayed her shock. Her eyes darted to Jaime who was being wrestled back into his chair. As Sansa’s head turned slowly towards her kin, her eyes landed on Lord Selwyn. While she could not read Lord Selwyn’s expression before, she could read it now. Contempt.

“I didn’t know! It was only meant to be an assurance.”

Jon rounded on Sansa once more. “An assurance!? You exiled one of our best knights for pettiness! Because Ser Brienne dared care for someone other than you. She served our House honorably. She saved your life. She fought for us. She led our men in battle. Your actions led to her death!”

_Her death…_

Sansa’s mind went blank as he jaw gaped at the words. She stammered and desperately looked to those gathered.

“I… I didn’t kill her. I sent her away. Jon, please. She was being used by the Kingslayer! She betrayed us!”

Disapproving looks and shaking heads were all Sansa was met with.

“His name is Jaime. Just Jaime.” Bran’s voice drew Sansa’s attention to him, but Bran was looking at Jaime. When Bran turned to meet Sansa’s eyes, she saw darkness there.

“And her name was Brienne. _Not_ Kingslayer’s Whore. You may have only killed her babe, but your actions led to her death. Ser Jaime rode south for love, but not the love you thought. He rode south for Brienne. He rang the bells. He killed _her_.”

The ‘her’ hung heavy in the air between them. As her eyes darted back to Jaime, she saw tears streaking down his cheeks as Tyrion tried to console him.

_No. This is all a lie and they don’t see it. He only loves Cersei. I know it._

With a heavy sigh, Jon took slow steps towards Sansa. “Sansa, let me ask you again. Do you deny these charges?”

Shaking her head in refute, Sansa glanced up at Jon from her position on her knees. “I do not. I saved you all! The Kingslayer lies, but you all refuse to see it!”

Jon closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Unfortunately for you, Sansa, the only person in this world who would _still_ defend you is dead. You never deserved her loyalty. Now if you’ll excuse me, Ser Jaime and I need to go collect her body.”

Glancing back at Lord Selwyn, Jon nodded. “You have my word, Lord Tarth. We will right this wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Brienne comes back! I'm hoping that mayyyybbee I can get the chapter edited today and posted later. Thanks for reading!


	7. Warm and Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Jon get Brienne to Kinvara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting day - this with chapter 6

**Jaime**

Jaime watched bitterly as Sansa was dragged away by the Unsullied. A hand at his shoulder disrupted Jaime’s murderous thoughts. Turning to see Bronn’s smirking face, Jaime shook the sellsword’s hand from his body.

“I told you to stay away from me!”

“Who do ya think kept ya hidden and got ya to a maester when the fuckin’ ceilin’ fell on ya head? I told ya, only I get to kill ya.”

With a snort, Bronn’s brows rose as he looked to Jon. “Good luck. He’s awful touchy today.”

The arrogant sellsword marched off in the direction of the Keep. Jaime wished to pummel the man as much as he wished to see Sansa’s head on a spike.

Every part of Jaime wanted to scream, rage, and cry. It was then that he felt a large shadow fall over him. Turning around, Jaime looked up into the face of the largest man he had ever seen.

The man’s lips curled in distaste as he spoke to Jon while glaring at Jaime. “You said my daughter was with a _good_ man; not that he was the Kingslayer.”

_Oh gods. Her father. My head will be next to Sansa’s._

“Aye, I said she was with a good man and I can assure you that Ser Jaime is. Lord Bran will tell you all that you need to know, but as I said, we need to save your daughter. Please, trust me in this.”

Selwyn clenched his jaw before speaking. “She has been dishonored by this man, and left swinging in the breeze by your cousin’s men! You can’t save her. She’s dead!”

“Aye, she is. So was I. A red priestess brought me back and a red priestess will bring your daughter back.”

Selwyn’s face was incredulous as he looked to Jon. “What are you on about? You said you would bring her back. Her body.”

Jon pushed back his fur cloak and lifted his tunic to reveal several scars at his chest and over his heart.

“As I said, a red priestess brought me back. Bran has told me of another who can do the same for Ser Brienne, but Ser Jaime and I must hurry. She died this morning and the longer we wait, the worse off she will be if we raise her. I swear to you that we will right this wrong. I will bring your daughter back to you. Not just her body.”

Selwyn grimaced, but grabbed Jaime roughly by the jerkin. “By the gods, if our king didn’t tell me that I couldn’t kill you, your head would be in the Blackwater. If this fails, I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands. None of this would have happened if you didn’t dishonor my daughter!”

Without another word, the massive lord from Tarth stormed away from the pit. Slowly, other members of the summit left as Arya wheeled Bran over. “You remember the location?”

“Aye. You’re certain about this, Bran? Kinvara will help us?”

Bran nodded slowly at Jon. “You need to hurry. Ser Brienne needs to be brought back within the day. The longer someone is dead for, the worse the effects can be.”

Jaime’s brows knitted in confusion. “What effects?”

At the question, Jon grabbed Jaime’s elbow and led him from the pit. “I’ll explain later. Bran is right. We can’t delay.”

Jaime’s mind was a sea of emotions and questions. He struggled to shake the image of Brienne swaying from a tree. Guilt weighed heavy on Jaime’s soul knowing that Sansa was hardly alone in the contribution to Brienne’s death. His actions weighed equally in the outcome.

A loud cry from the skies caught Jaime’s attention. Glancing up, the sight of a rapidly approaching dragon made Jaime take pause. Jaime halted his progress forward and reached for a sword that wasn’t at his hip.

With a small laugh, Jon reached back and grabbed Jaime’s arm. “I’m sorry. This is the only way to ensure we get to her fast enough.”

“I’m not getting on that thing!”

Speaking over his shoulder as he dragged Jaime forward, Jon offered a sympathetic smile. “If we don’t take the dragon, your love is going to be a pile of bones by the time we get her to Volantis.”

After Drogon landed, Jaime watched in horror as Jon climbed atop the dragon’s back and looked to him expectantly. With a questioning brow, Jon gestured to the space behind him. “Well? Do you wish to save her?”

_Seven hells._

Taking a cautious step forward, Jaime kept an eye on the winged beast. The feel of the dragon below his flesh hand was not as he expected. The dragon was warm to the touch, but the scales dry.

A slight chill ran down Jaime’s spine as memories of Drogon torching his army flooded his mind. The vision of the living and dead dragons dueling overhead at Winterfell played out as if only yesterday.

Climbing atop Drogon, Jaime spoke uneasily to Jon. “What am I meant to hold onto? I have one hand.”

“Oh, right. Well… is it strong?”

Jaime rolled his eyes at the laughter in Jon’s voice. A distant memory from his earliest days with Brienne pushed to the forefront of his mind.

_I’m strong enough._

From ground level, Tyrion called up to them. “Jaime. I’m sorry. I never asked ‘why’. Not for any of it.”

With little more than a small nod to Tyrion, Jaime looked ahead as the dragon began its ascent into the sky. It was a disorienting experience and one that Jaime did not wish to prolong more than necessary. The air was cold and the speed harrowing.

Thoughts of plummeting to his death plagued Jaime’s mind. Squeezing his eyes shut as he ducked low to avoid the greatest wind resistance, Jaime saw only sapphire pools staring back at him in the darkness. Then the visions Bran shared played out before him.

_She must have been so frightened. Those dogs killed an unarmed woman, weak from travel and miscarriage._

When they began their descent, Jaime marveled at how little time they had been in the sky. Such a distance by horse would have taken weeks.

“Where are we?”

Jon glanced back and shouted over the sound of rushing air.

“Just northwest of White Harbor. Bran said she would be in this area.”

_Gods. We have to find her and cut her down._

The swaying tavern girls from the Riverlands came back to his mind. Brienne had been adamant about burying them and Jaime had scoffed. He cruelly japed that the tavern girls would be swinging in Brienne’s dreams. In a cruel twist of fate, Brienne would be the one swinging in Jaime’s nightmares for the rest of his days.

_Would anyone have done that for her? Would they have stopped to bury her?_

The thought was crushing. It hurt to think on how many people had likely passed her body and thought little of it. In front of him, Jon slid down from the dragon, but Jaime was petrified.

Jaime didn’t know if he could handle seeing Brienne’s lifeless body hanging from a tree. It seemed his heart might shatter into a million pieces.

“Ser Jaime. I know this isn’t easy…”

“How could you possibly know how this feels!?” Jaime didn’t mean to snap at the newly acknowledged king, but his emotional state was teetering on the edge. It was difficult to breathe, and Jaime felt his heart racing at the thought of cutting Brienne down from a tree.

“I understand more than you realize.”

Jaime moved down from the dragon and spoke bitterly. “Your love was a madwoman. She deserved death.”

Jon’s face was a warning as he squared his shoulders at Jaime. “Aye, I loved Daenerys. It wasn’t her that I speak of though. The woman that stole away with my heart years ago died in my arms.”

The words struck Jaime. He had always wanted to die in the arms of the woman he loved. Brienne. Now he would hold her dead body in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” It was all Jaime could say without dissolving into a mess.

With a heavy sigh, Jon pointed towards the wooded area before them. “Lets find her quickly. It will take well over half a day to get to Volantis and we have no time to spare.”

Stepping forward, Jon inclined his head left. “Why don’t you look through that area and I’ll take the right?”

“It’s a clearing. She died in a clearing not far from the kingsroad.”

Jon’s brows furrowed as he considered Jaime’s words. “How do you know?”

“Bran showed me.”

“I hadn’t realized he showed you that. He just said…” Jon took pause and shook his head before continuing.

“The maester had you under poppy because of the swelling. You were given a final dose last night once he determined the pain would be tolerable or gone. The injury to your head was worse than we thought, and he believed you would be more comfortable if kept in sleep. Bran said that he needed to show you something, but he didn’t say _what_.”

Nodding in understanding, Jaime trudged forward and looked for clearings in any direction while keeping near the kingsroad. He walked for some time, lost in though and praying to the Seven that the plan worked. Then he saw her. A cool northern breeze pushed through the forest and spun her lifeless body.

Jaime’s stomach lurched and bile rose in his throat. That was when he realized that he had nothing to cut the rope with. “Jon!”

Stumbling forward, Jaime fell to his knees as he entered the clearing. It felt as though he had been pierced through each lung. He couldn’t breathe nor look upon her. Closing his eyes, Jaime screamed louder; his voice thick with tears.

“Jon!”

Grabbing at his chest, Jaime sobbed as he heard the rustling of leaves behind him.

“Seven hells.” Jon muttered and moved passed him. The distinct sound of a sword unsheathing caught Jaime’s attention. Then he remembered the tavern girls falling to the ground with a sickening thud as bodily fluids splattered onto him.

Surging forward from his kneeling position, Jaime ran to catch Brienne’s body as the rope slackened at Jon’s blade. Jaime caught Brienne in his arms and pulled her cold body close to his chest. The emotional pain felt worse than the sensation of losing his hand.

Sobbing into Brienne’s lifeless body, Jaime felt Jon’s hand at his shoulder. “We have to go.”

Rage consumed Jaime as he noted the sign draped over her. Tearing it off, he flung it into a thicket and screamed. Jon crouched before him and shook Jaime’s shoulders.

“Let me carry her.”

“No! I’ve got her.” Jaime’s words came out harsher than he intended, but Jon said nothing of it.

Forcing himself to stand, Jaime scooped Brienne into his arms. He had never carried her before, but she felt smaller and lighter than he expected. Her boney body spoke to the lack of nourishment on her travels. She had always been lean and lacking the thickened curves of most noblewomen, but the harsh reality of two moons traveling alone were apparent.

Glancing at her face for the first time, Jaime saw the bruising and dry blood at her nose and lips. Her left eye had heavy bruising where one of the soldiers likely punched her. Then he saw her neck.

The marks from the rope were devastating to see. He wanted to go back in time and fix it. Steal away with her to Essos, and let the mad queens and Sansa have at each other.

When they returned to Drogon, Jon climbed atop and reached down. “Pass her up.”

Jaime didn’t want to let go, but he knew that he had to. Extending his arms to Jon, Jaime watched as the young king pulled Brienne’s lifeless body onto Drogon’s back.

Climbing up, Jaime moved behind Brienne’s body and cradled her with his maimed arm. Jaime held on as tightly as he could with his left hand while keeping Brienne wedged between him and Jon.

Jon glanced back to assess Jaime’s hold on Brienne. “Got her?”

_Always._

After traveling the remainder of the day and through the night, they arrived in Volantis at sunrise. Bran had instructed them to go to the Red Temple and seek out Kinvara.

Looking up at the temple with Brienne’s lifeless body in his arms, Jaime gasped. It was easily three times the size of the once standing Sept of Baelor. People moved about purposefully as the sun came up over the horizon.

Jaime didn’t know what to expect from the impending encounter with Kinvara, but a deep unease settled in his gut as Jon walked just ahead of him. As they approached the large doors to the temple, a woman stepped outside with an expression as vacant as those often adorning Bran’s face.

“Welcome, King Aegon. We’ve been expecting you.”

At the words, Jon glanced back warily at Jaime.

_Gods. It’s the female version of Bran._

They were led inside and down a long hallway. A fiery glow illuminated their path as the woman wordlessly guided them into a room on the righthand side. Three attendants bustled about the room as though preparing for something or someone.

“Place her on the table, Ser Jaime. Kinvara will be in momentarily. She is finishing her morning prayers.”

Without another word, the young woman with red hair exited the room. The necklace she wore reminded Jaime of the red priestess at Winterfell who lit the trenches and Dothraki arakhs before battle.

Glancing uneasily at Jon, Jaime watched as the young king offered little more than a shrug. When the attendants cleared out of the room, Jon chuckled.

“Melisandre raised me on a wooden table at Castle Black. This is much more ornate.”

Were Jaime not staring at Brienne’s lifeless body and pallid skin, he might have laughed. Unwilling to leave Brienne’s side, Jaime placed his flesh hand on her forehead. His eyes wandered to her flat belly where their child once grew strong within. A new wave of tears stung the back of his eyes.

Abruptly, a woman entered the room in a swirl of skirts. The woman was curvaceous with piercing eyes and long brown hair. Without a word, she moved to Brienne’s side and appraised her. Similar to the woman who led them into the room, the necklace she wore was identical to the one Melisandre once donned.

“Unusual. A day, yet the faintest flame remains.”

_What?_

The woman glanced at Jaime curiously. “I’ve not seen a lingering flame in anyone a day past death. When the flame goes out entirely, they come back too changed. If the flame lingers still, there is a chance. I saw hers before you arrived. Its you.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed as he looked to Jon for aid. “I’m sorry?”

The woman rounded the table and took Jaime’s face in her hands. They were incredibly warm to the touch. Her eyes seemed to look deep into Jaime’s soul.

“I see twin swords. Twin flames. Yours is a love that even death cannot extinguish.”

Jaime stammered slightly as the woman released his face and moved back to Brienne. “I don’t understand what any of that means. Can you bring her back?”

“No. You will. Though I warn you, she may be changed, or her memories lost. Those raised thirst only for their last thought before death. Some lose all memory of themselves. For others, it is both.”

The woman moved to the shelves and produced various jars. One appeared to contain an oil and the other water. She began praying over them in a language that Jaime couldn’t discern. Taking pause, the woman glanced to Jon.

“King Aegon, you can wait outside.”

With a nod of understanding, Jon stepped into the hallway and shut the door.

Kinvara spoke sternly as her eyes darted to Jaime. “Your belief in the Lord of Light matters little in what he wills. It is your love that matters. Your flame. The rite is called the last kiss. We can breathe the flame of life into the dead to reignite or embolden their flame. Love is the most powerful flame. Not hate nor vengeance.”

The red priestess produced a dagger from the shelf and moved to Brienne’s side as she renewed chanting in an unfamiliar language.

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight of the dagger. He didn’t know this woman nor this place, but something disturbed him. An urge to fall atop Brienne’s body and protect her coursed through him.

“I won’t hurt your love, Ser Jaime. Relax.”

As her eyes appraised Jaime, he felt his shoulders ease. Grabbing Brienne’s tunic, the woman cut it away, exposing her ashen flesh. Bruises lined Brienne’s body and Jaime felt tears sting the back of his eyes. She was so thin and broken looking.

The woman began to pour the oils over Brienne’s body as Kinvara chanted. Moving to Brienne’s head, she poured the water over her hair and ran her hand down Brienne’s scalp. Cutting a piece of her hair, Kinvara threw it into the fire while she continued to speak in a foreign tongue.

Grabbing Jaime’s hand, Kinvara tugged it forward and placed it on Brienne’s neck. His fingers grazed the edge of the bear’s scars as a rush of memories flooded him. Holding his hand firm to Brienne, Jaime listened as the red priestess continued chanting.

Kinvara placed her hands beside Jaime’s hand. Leaning down, the red priestess placed her mouth over Brienne’s. Jaime could hear Kinivara exhale into Brienne’s mouth as her cheeks filled slightly. 

Pulling back, Kinvara looked at Jaime and inclined her head towards Brienne. “You were her first kiss. You will be her last.”

Without another word, Kinvara left the room. Jaime stood rooted in place, uncertain what he was meant to do. With his hand still at Brienne’s neck, his heart sunk. He wanted nothing more than to see her eyes full of life. To see her cheeks flush at one of his tasteless japes. To see her smile.

Her smile. It had taken his breath away the first time he saw it. First it was only a hint of a smile when he gifted her Oathkeeper and the armor. Then it was a full smile at her knighting. If nothing else, he would cherish that memory above all others. 

Leaning down, Jaime pressed his lips to Brienne’s. They felt cold; a cruel reminder of what was stolen from him. As Jaime pulled back slightly, his tears fell onto her face. He wiped at his eyes before leaning against the table and grabbing her arm.

_This was fucking stupid. We should have brought her body to Tarth and given her a proper burial._

Jaime repositioned Brienne’s tunic over her body and sighed while cursing the gods inwardly. The door to the room opened and Jon moved back inside. He looked hopefully to the table, but when he observed no motion, Jon’s frown deepened. Placing a comforting hand on Jaime’s shoulder, Jon sighed.

“I’m sorry. Melisandre brought me back. I just thought…”

Jon cut himself off. His eyes went wide, and his hand squeezed tighter on Jaime’s shoulder. “Ser Brienne.”

Following Jon’s eyeline, Jaime felt his heart stop. Brienne’s eyes were open, though panicked. She gasped for air and struggled to sit upright. Clutching at her throat, she shook violently; whether from shock or fear, Jaime was uncertain.

Helping Brienne upright, Jaime wrapped his arms tightly around her. It felt like surfacing from rough seas as his body released a loud sob. “Brienne! You’re alright! It’s alright!”

Her body continued to shake as Jon ran to the corner and grabbed a blanket. “Her body. The blood hasn’t been flowing for a day. She needs warming.”

Jon draped the blanket over her, and Jaime gathered it around Brienne’s body. Pulling back from the embrace, Jaime tugged the blanket across her chest and met her eyes. Her face was a blur as tears cascaded down his face.

“Brienne. It’s alright now. You’re safe.”

Frightened sapphires looked deep into his eyes. She looked frantically to Jon and then around the room. “Where am I?”

“Volantis. We’re at the Red Temple.” Jaime spoke as though it answered every question she likely had. In truth, he hardly understood it himself.

As her eyes took in the room, they returned to Jaime. She glanced uneasily at Jon as she tugged the blankets tighter. Her chin shivered from cold as she glanced back at Jaime.

“Who… who are you?”


	8. Then and Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is alive and very confused. Jaime realizes just how much she forgets.

**Brienne**

Brienne felt uneasy as the man before her stared in confusion; his hand running through her hair. Something about his eyes seemed familiar, but Brienne couldn’t recall why.

_Who is this? Why is he touching me like that and crying?_

Before the man could respond, a woman entered the room with a cup of warm soup. Moving next to the unknown man, she offered Brienne the bowl and smiled.

“Brienne Tarth. My name is Kinvara and you are in Volantis. These men are your friends. They brought you here to bring you back to life.”

_Friends? I don’t have any friends._

Brienne looked uneasy at the words. Glancing to the pair, she eyed Jaime and Jon suspiciously. “Why?”

Kinvara studied Brienne with knitted brows. “Tell me, what is the last thing you remember?”

At the woman’s question, confusion gave way to embarrassment. Brienne averted her eyes and stared at the warm bowl of soup in her hands. 

“I would rather not say.”

Kinvara looked at the men and requested they step out from the room. She insisted that it was important for her to understand what Brienne recalled.

The man with familiar eyes lingered momentarily at the door. If Brienne wasn’t so aware of how unlovable and ugly she was, she might have thought he cared for her. When the door shut, the woman grabbed Brienne’s chin between her thumb and index finger.

Kinvara seemed to be searching Brienne for something before she spoke again. “I need to know what you remember.”

Brienne squeezed her eyes shut and recalled the last moments before the darkness set in. “I just remember that I couldn’t breathe. I was alone. Beyond that, I only recall how I felt. My regrets.”

With a slow nod, Kinvara continued staring at Brienne.

“And how did you feel? What were you thinking?”

Brienne felt her face flush. Her thoughts had been foolish. She chastised herself for being so pathetic in her final moments.

“It’s quite embarrassing really. I just thought… I wished I had been loved. I know its absurd. Clearly.” Brienne gestured at herself as though it provided the answer as to _why_ the thought preposterous.

“I know that love was not something I was meant to have.”

Kinvara hummed as she considered Brienne. “And you don’t remember those men who were in here?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne looked down at her hands. “No. Well… something about one of them seems familiar. Like I’ve seen him before, but I can’t place when or where. I only remember his eyes.”

At the words, Kinvara tilted her head slightly. “Whose eyes?”

“The one with green eyes. I am fairly certain that I died alone, but I _think_ I saw him. Well, not _him_ per say. I think I saw his eyes. I don’t know. It’s confusing. I suppose it matters little. The only thing I’m certain of, is that I wasn’t loved, though I wanted it more than anything.”

Brienne glanced into Kinvara’s curious eyes. “Did you have to bring me back?”

The woman tilted her head in question. It struck Brienne that the woman likely only brought people back who were loved by others, or who had some larger purpose. Immediately regretting how the question sounded, Brienne stammered to provide context.

“I don’t intend to sound unappreciative. It’s just that… I don’t know that I can endure _another_ loveless life where I’m little more than a jape and burden. I don’t want to die alone again.”

_Gods. What a waste of her ability. The real jape is on Westeros I suppose. How did I get to Volantis? Mayhap Westeros rid themselves of me?_

“Do you recall anything else from your life?”

Brienne nodded slowly. “Yes, of course. I remember most everything until the darkness.”

Kinvara considered Brienne for a moment before a sympathetic smile tugged at her lips.

“I’ll be right back.”

The woman exited the room, leaving Brienne alone to her thoughts. She tugged the blankets closer and appraised the room. The table she sat on was cold and hard. Despite that, the room itself was a pleasant temperature. A subtle orange glow from the candles lighting the room gave off an added warmth.

_Why did those men bring me here?_

As Brienne continued to glance around the room, she caught sight of her reflection in a small mirror. Her eyes went wide in horror as she saw the bruising around her neck and on her face.

Feeling her neck, Brienne realized then what must have happened.

_Someone hung me?_

**Jaime**

When Kinvara stepped into the hallway, she had a curious expression on her face. Standing before Jaime, her head tilted in question.

“How long have you known her?”

Shaking his head, Jaime shrugged. “Years.”

“And how long have you loved her?

Jaime could feel the heat at his neck. His eyes shifted slightly to Jon before returning to Kinvara. When he answered, the words were a whisper at his lips. “Just as long.”

It felt strange admitting his love out loud to others when he had yet to declare it to Brienne. While others could see his actions for what they were, Jaime had not yet given voice to it. It felt like a betrayal to Brienne that she had not heard it first.

Looking at Jon, Kinvara questioned him in turn. “And how long have you known her?”

“Not as long as Ser Jaime. A couple of years perhaps.”

With a slight nod of her head, Kinvara appraised Jaime once more.

“Her memory is gone at least as many years as you’ve known her. Unfortunately, I’ve never seen memories return. I’ve also never raised nor heard of anyone raised, who suffered such a violent death and didn’t feel anger or hate in the final moments.”

Jaime shook his head resolutely. “That isn’t who she is. She’s too good for this shit world.”

Kinvara hummed slightly. “Yes, well pity she doesn’t think that. I don’t believe you’ll need to fear much in way of personality change as most suffer from. She may seem more sullen though. I don’t know if she can find happiness or love in this life.”

“I love her!” Jaime spat the words through gritted teeth.

Kinvara raised a brow and smirked. “You may love her, and she may yet come to find her love for you once more. You are twin flames after all. Even still, that love will never be enough when she can’t accept that she is lovable. When she can’t love herself.”

Jaime straightened to full height. He looked down his nose at Kinvara and spoke confidently. “Then I will love her enough for the both of us.”

As Jaime moved into the room, he could hear Jon apologizing on his behalf and thanking Kinvara for what she did. It took everything in Jaime not to scream, but then his eyes landed on Brienne.

She looked so lost. Her hand was at her throat as though trying to feel for a rope that wasn’t there. All Jaime wanted to do was hold her, but he feared startling or upsetting her.

“Brienne. I’m sorry for what happened to you. I won’t let that happen ever again. You have my word.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion at his promise. Reminding himself that he was nothing to her, Jaime approached slowly and asked after her memories.

“Other than dying, what was the last thing that you recall?”

Jaime watched as Brienne’s face seemed to search for something buried deep within. Her head shook slightly as she glanced back at him. A slight color touched her cheeks as she spoke.

“I was at King Renly’s camp.”

_Seven hells. So I’m to compete with a ghost for her affections._

The door opened and Jon returned. His eyes glanced between them in question. With a slight shake of his head, Jaime huffed a small laugh.

“I regret to inform you King Jon, but our lady knight thinks Renly Baratheon is the king of Westeros.”

At Jaime’s words, Brienne’s eyes went wide. Her jaw gaped slightly, and she struggled to give voice to her thoughts.

“King Jon? I… I’m so sorry. Forgive me, but I don’t even know a Jon. Are you by chance king of somewhere in Essos?”

Jon huffed a small laugh. “It’s alright. I’m Jon, but I suppose my formal name is Aegon Targaryen. I don’t mean to frighten you, but a lot happened between what you recall and your death.”

Brienne moved from the table on shaky legs. The weakness in her limbs surprised her, and the men caught her with quick hands. “Woah. Easy. I’ve been there, myself. Coming back from death isn’t easy work.”

The words sparked something in Brienne. She looked to him with wide yes. “You’ve been brought back too?”

“Aye. My death was a bit bloodier though.” As Jon steadied her, he pulled up his own tunic to reveal a litany of scars over his chest and abdomen. Brienne reached her hand out slowly, but she retracted it before skin met skin.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I have no right to touch you. I just thought, or rather, felt… a bit alone in this. What happened to you?”

A sorrowful expression seized Jon’s features. “I was a member of the Night’s Watch. They named me Lord Commander, but when some disagreed with my decisions, a few of my sworn brothers took my life.”

Jaime had not known of it. He had wondered how Jon managed to free himself from the Watch without being tracked down and killed.

It also struck Jaime that Jon was also killed violently, but he didn’t seem changed as Kinvara said. He didn’t see angry or set on vengeance.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” Brienne’s face fell at the words and Jaime wanted for nothing more than to hold her close.

Jon huffed a small laugh and glanced at Jaime teasingly. “A Kingsguard once told me not to worry. Even if I regretted my decision to serve in the Night’s Watch, it was only for life. Luckily I died and was able to try something new.”

Jaime startled at the memory from a lifetime ago. 

_Gods. Did I say that? I was so bitter then._

“I don’t remember how I died. Only that I was alone, and I couldn’t breathe. Although, it seemed someone hung me. Do you remember anything after you died?”

Brienne appraised Jon’s face as she awaited his response. The eagerness in her voice made Jaime wonder at what she had experienced.

With a sigh, Jon shook his head. “Only darkness.”

A momentary silence hung heavy in the room as Brienne’s face fell.

“Yes, it was the same for me. I thought there might be something _more_. It was just dark and cold. I suppose I was hoping that mayhap if I didn’t do such a poor job at life this time, I might earn something better in death. I guess that’s to be it then.”

A sad smile tugged at her lips. Turning to Jaime, Brienne raised a brow. “Did you die too? Is that why you both brought me here? To aid someone else who died?”

“Not in the literal sense, no. I lost a hand! Does that count?” Jaime played at lightness, but in truth, he felt oddly left out at the bonding over death that Jon and Brienne were doing.

“How did you lose your hand?” Brienne studied Jaime’s false hand before meeting his eyes.

Jaime felt his breathing stop at the question.

_For you. I’d lose the other for you too._

A array of japes danced on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw the genuine curiosity in her eyes, he couldn’t lie.

“Defending the love of my life.”

Another sad smile tugged at Brienne’s lips. A slight mist coated her eyes and for a moment, Jaime thought maybe she remembered him. Her voice was genuine when she spoke.

“She’s very lucky to have you. Love seems a wonderful thing.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Jaime’s hand began to move slowly towards hers, but before he could grab hold, Brienne looked to Jon.

“So, are you truly the king in Westeros?”

The newly acknowledge king chuckled slightly. “Aye, I am. Strange as that may seem.”

Brienne nodded as though it pained her to accept the information. She looked at Jaime with confusion heavy in her features. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

“My name is Jaime. Just Jaime”

Brienne’s brows knitted. “Do you have a last name?”

Jaime didn’t want her to know his last name yet. She would think him little more than the Kingslayer and push him away in disgust. He remembered the look on Brienne’s face when they first met. At the time, Brienne looked at him as everyone in Westeros did.

“Jaime Hill.”

Jon snorted at his side. “Gods. How the tables have turned.”

With a warning look to Jon, Jaime glanced back at Brienne. She accepted his answer easily enough. Brienne had always been trusting and he hated lying to her, but he wasn’t ready to tell her all of it yet.

Something seemed to trouble Brienne as she glanced between them.

“What happened in Westeros? To Renly?”

Jon shrugged at Jaime and mumbled. “You would know better than I. I was a bit occupied.”

_Seven hells. Where do I even begin._

“Well, I suppose we should start with Renly since you served him. He was killed by… Stannis. Stannis was in turn killed by House Bolton, who had been awarded Winterfell after turning on House Stark. They had allied in secret with House Lannister and House Frey to have Robb and Catelyn Stark killed. I think at some point the Iron Islands were rebelling, but no one really gave a shit.”

Jaime continued without noticing the horrified expression on Brienne’s face.

“King Joffrey was killed at his wedding. A bit of justice I suppose. My bro… um… Tyrion Lannister was falsely accused in it and imprisoned, but in truth it was House Tyrell that killed the miserable shit. Tyrion demanded a trial by combat and Oberyn Martell fought the Mountain on his behalf. I think they both died in the fight. That bit is still confusing to me. Anyway, someone set Tyrion free and he killed his father, Tywin, on the privy. Then he fled across the Narrow Sea and allied with Daenerys Targaryen.”

Taking a deep breath, Jaime continued. He failed to see the bewildered look that Brienne exchanged with Jon.

“While all that happened, the Oberyn’s bastards and lover killed Princess Myrcella as retaliation for his death. Tommen was crowned, but really it was Cersei making all the decisions at that point. She sent the Lannister army to Riverrun to help the fucking Freys reclaim their prize for destroying House Stark. The Blackfish had retaken it at some point. He must have been on the privy too when the rest of his kin was killed at the Twins. I’m still a bit unclear on how he escaped that.”

Jaime scratched the back of his neck as he considered what came next. Snapping his fingers, he looked eagerly back at Brienne. “Oh! This is where you come in. Yes, you were in Renly’s Rainbow Guard…”

“His Rainbow Guard!? How? I was just a soldier. A woman.”

_Oh. I never quite asked her how that happened._

Looking to Jon for aid, he only shrugged. Jaime bit his lip and met Brienne’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how. But you were, and then when he died, you served Lady Catelyn Stark. You were charged with caring for her daughters in her absence. You found and saved Sansa who had been a political hostage in King’s Landing. Then you brought her to Jon… or… King Aegon here. They reclaimed Winterfell. The other one… the scary, little one who does the thing with the faces… she showed up at some point.”

Jon chuckled and met Brienne’s eyes. “Arya Stark. My cousin seems to have become a Faceless Man.”

“Yes, that’s the one! Well she made it back home. One of the boy’s survived too, but he’s a bit fucked in the head I’m afraid.”

Jon looked to the ceiling and groaned. “Not helpful information.”

“Right, sorry. Well then Tyrion came back to Westeros with Daenerys. She had three dragons, Brienne! Three! I can’t with the bloody dragons. She was a complete…”

Jaime took pause and saw Jon’s face fall. He took a steadying breath and played down the madness. “She was a bit too much of Aerys, I’m afraid. Either way, she joined forces with the North and the Vale. They meant to fight Cersei for the crown. Oh gods! I didn’t tell you. Wildfire, Brienne. Cersei used wildfire. It was awful. And Tommen… he…”

Jaime paused and shook his head. The memories consumed him, but then he recalled that Brienne didn’t remember the truth of Aerys. His face fell and he continued.

_I should have left her then. Why didn’t I?_

“King Tommen died. Cersei was queen, but she was not fit to rule. She was mad too. Daenerys, the North, and the Vale asked for Cersei to join them; to unite Westeros to fight a greater threat than squabbling over the bloody throne. The Night King and White Walkers were, unfortunately, real. Cersei refused to give aid. It was horrible, but you fought for the living. You were very brave, and you led a contingent! You did amazing. You’re a knight by the way. The first female knight in all of Westeros because you earned it. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Oh wait! No, this is too important.”

Jaime leaned in and spoke through gritted teeth.

“There is this fucking Wildling, Brienne. I swear by the gods, that I will punt that man from the Wall itself. Do no go near him. This one…” Jaime inclined his head towards Jon. “… is friends with him, but do not talk to the man. Trust me. He is the worst.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide as she looked to Jon. For his part, Jon could only grumble and run his hand aggressively down his face.

“Anyway, the living won and then the kingdoms marched against Cersei. The two queens destroyed everything in the process. They’re both dead. Now Jon is king. I’m not entirely certain what he plans to call himself.”

Jaime glanced at Jon with a raised brow.

“Jon. I think it might be best to not boast at my Targaryen lineage after all that.”

Jaime nodded in agreement and looked back to Brienne with a slight shrug.

“That’s pretty much it.”

It was then that Jaime realized how overwhelmed she was by the onslaught of information. She shook her head slowly as if struggling to process it. A pang of sympathy gripped Jaime as he watched her face fall.

“I’m sorry. Saying it all at once like that seems a bit much. A lot has happened. You were there for it all and you were… amazing.”

“Aye, you were.” Jon smiled and nodded at Brienne.

Brienne bit her lip and looked to the floor. Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath and met their eyes.

“Thank you both for saying that, but you don’t need to embellish my involvement. I’m certain that I did as much as any other soldier. Clearly, I did something wrong or simply wasn’t well liked. That feels more realistic. I remember how the men treated me at Renly’s camp. Please, I would rather hear the truth, even if you think it will hurt. I’m used to it.”

Jaime wanted to shake her and tell her that she was loved and respected. It was only her association with him that ruined her. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut and glanced at Jon.

“Ser Brienne. We are not embellishing. I know it feels a lot to believe. If I’m being honest, I struggle to believe my own role in all of this. I thought myself a bastard just a year ago. If I closed my eyes one day believing myself a bastard, and then opened them the next to have someone tell me I am the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, I would think it a great jape at my expense. I would think they mocked me.”

Brienne’s eyes lit up once more. “Yes. That’s how it feels. I don’t mean to call you liars, but it’s just a lot. More than I know I’m worth.”

“You are worth flying across the Narrow Sea on the back of a dragon for and so much more.” Jaime spoke without thinking. He felt the heat at the back of his neck when both Brienne and Jon looked to him in surprise.

Clearing his throat, Jaime shook his head and poke more calmly. “We’ll take you home. Everyone is worried about you.”

Brienne glanced to him, but held her tongue. It seemed she was struggling to put something into words. Looking between Jamie and Jon, Brienne spoke hesitantly.

“What happened to me? Why did I die?”


	9. Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne return to Westeros. Brienne has many questions.

**Brienne**

The words rolled around in her head as Brienne changed into a new tunic that an attendant provided.

_I was killed by men I fought beside. By soldiers from House Bolton._

Jon and Jaime had not shared much other than to note the men’s actions were not supported by the larger army. They shared that the men had a vendetta against her and Jaime for past altercations with their House.

_I have a feeling the rest of the army was glad of it. I remember how Renly’s men felt about me. A great jape. Unwanted._

Her body was still weak, and Brienne had stumbled several times leaving the temple. The man who introduced himself as Jaime never left her side. He was a ridiculously good-looking man and much more agreeable on the eyes than any man she recalled knowing, including Renly.

_His love is lucky to have him. He even shows kindness to an ugly woman such as me._

King Jon seemed a caring man and they had much in common. She had never known a sovereign to have so much regard for an unknown soldier. Even Renly, as sympathetic to Brienne as he was, never would have done such a thing for her.

As they climbed atop the dragon outside the Red Temple, Brienne wondered if she was still dead and the darkness had merely lifted. It felt surreal that these men had flown on the back of a dragon to get her lifeless body to a red priestess. It felt too much for what she knew herself to be worth.

The red priestess stood near the dragon and looked up at them. Her eyes narrowed at Jaime and Brienne. The attention unnerved Brienne and she squirmed slightly atop the great beast.

“Ser Brienne. Did you think it possible that you could be raised from the dead?”

The question caught Brienne by surprise. She shook her head in refute as she looked at the woman. “No.”

With a small smile, the woman nodded. “Then perhaps it is not impossible that you can be loved. Be open in this life. I can assure you that it won’t be the same as the last.”

Without another word, she turned and walked inside. Jon called out his thanks one final time before commanding the dragon into the sky. The abrupt motion startled Brienne, and she clung to the dragon’s scales.

A firm arm wrapped around her waist. Shifting close at her back, Jaime’s breath was warm against her neck. His thighs pressed firm against hers as his left hand reached forward and grabbed at the dragon’s scales in front of her.

“I’ve got you. I’d say you get used to this thing, but I haven’t.”

The proximity was dizzying. Only one other man had had been so close to Brienne before. Renly. All previous touch had otherwise been formal, violent, or mocking. 

Brienne’s instinct was to flee, but she couldn’t. It was not a luxury afforded to her when so far above the ground on the back of a dragon.

They flew for some time with Brienne being able to do little more than fixate on Jaime’s body pressed close to hers. His cheek brushed against her face from time to time as the great beast flew over the ocean which stretched out as far as the eye could see.

A heavy fatigue was setting in. Brienne started nodding off slightly, but a firm embrace kept her in place. Jon glanced over his shoulder and yelled back to them; fatigue heavy in his eyes.

“We may need to find an island for some rest. We’ve not slept in over a day and I don’t feel like falling off this thing.”

They stopped to rest on the island of Lys. Brienne was relieved as she had been struggling to keep warm atop the dragon. Her new tunic was thin, and despite being wedged between the two men, the cold air sent chills down her spine.

As she lay on the ground not far from the dragon and men, Brienne felt something heavy and warm blanket her body. She looked up to see Jaime crouched at her side. He had removed his jerkin and placed it over her.

“I couldn’t quite manage to give this to you on the dragon. It’s a bit difficult to take off with the one hand.”

He lifted his false hand in demonstration and raised an amused brow.

“Oh. Thank you. You’ll be cold though.”

Jaime shook his head and smiled. “No, it’s fine. I’m not the one who was just raised from the dead. I can manage without it.”

He sat down beside her and sighed. Looking up at him, Brienne watched as the sun reflected off his hair and face.

_Far too handsome. Unfairly so. How could the gods afford him so much beauty and not give me a drop of it? How does he know me? We must have fought together._

“Did we fight together? Is that how we met?”

Jaime seemed caught off-guard by her question. He looked quickly to his hands and sighed. “We fought together against the dead. I served under your command.”

The idea of having led a contingent seemed laughable to Brienne _._

_Mayhap that is why he aids me. He feels obligated. That or he was wounded when I was killed. He looks unwell himself. I wonder what happened to his head._

“Why did you bring me to Volantis? Jon said we knew the men who killed me. Were they under my command? Like... what happened to Jon. Did I do something to wrong them?”

“You commanded the left flank. It was mostly men from the Vale; not those men. Those men were from House Bolton. I think they had lingering anger and bitterness towards you and House Stark. They hated me too; much more so than you. You did nothing wrong.”

Brienne considered his words and nodded. Then something struck her.

“You said your name was Jaime Hill, but you fought with the Vale. Hill is a bastard name of the West. Were you one of Cersei’s men? Did you abandon one queen for the other? Is that why they hated you?”

A bitter sounding laugh pushed passed Jaime’s lips. He looked to the horizon before glancing down at her.

“You could say that.”

Thinking it best to drop the subject, Brienne rolled to her side and closed her eyes. It did not take long for sleep to find her.

Green eyes looked at her as she struggled for breath.

_Stay with me. Please. Don’t let me die alone._

The eyes turned away from Brienne and all she could hear was men’s laughter. As the air left her lungs, and her limbs began to still, Brienne felt the Stranger’s arms wrapping around her.

_I just wanted to be loved._

Brienne bolted upright, gasping for air. It wasn’t much, but the addition of men’s laughter to what she remembered when the darkness came struck her. Warm arms pulled her close in the dwindling sunlight. “Brienne. It’s alright.”

_Where am I? Who is this?_

Realization slowly came back to Brienne. She shook the vestiges of her dream from the forefront of her mind. Green eyes met hers as Brienne pulled back her head slowly.

_Those eyes. Those are the eyes in my dream that I begged not to leave me. Jaime’s eyes. Jaime Hill. Was it him? Did he lie? Was he one of the men who killed me, and he felt badly for it after? Or did he abandon me as they killed me? Did his guilt drive the decision to take me to Kinvara?_

As her breathing steadied, Brienne saw the dragon and Jon resting just ahead. Jaime tugged his jerkin tighter around her body in a bid to keep her warm. The jerkin reminded Brienne of something she couldn’t give name to.

Like his eyes, Jaime’s scent was strangely familiar and oddly comforting. Brienne wasn’t certain how to describe it, but the scent made something deep within stir as though trying to bubble to the surface. A deep memory she couldn’t quite conjure seemed to fight for recognition. With a shaky breath, Brienne nodded at Jaime and met his eyes.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

Jaime shifted impossibly closer. The way he looked at Brienne unsettled her. His eyes spoke of a familiarity that she did not share. Furthering her discomfort, Jaime’s eyes were soft; softer than anyone who had the displeasure of looking upon her before. His smile was as warm as his tone when he responded.

“It’s fine. I’m eager to get home anyway. It’s best we move out.”

_Home. Where is my home?_

“Is your love there waiting for you?”

Brienne looked curiously at Jaime. She was surprised to see the confusion on his face.

“What?”

Inclining her chin towards his false hand, Brienne smiled warmly. “You said you lost your hand defending the woman you love. Is she waiting for you in Westeros?”

Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. He took a deep breath before responding. “She died.”

Sorrow washed over Brienne. She didn’t know what was worse; being unloved or loving so deeply and losing that love. Brienne attempted to change the subject quickly.

“So, I live in Westeros then?”

Jaime’s brows furrowed slightly as he lips pursed together. Nodding slowly, he looked to her. “You do.”

“Do you know where? Embarrassing really. I don’t much know where to go once we get back.”

A slightly panicked expression passed over Jaime’s features, Brienne watched as he glanced to Jon as if seeking aid. The king was still sleeping soundly by the dragon and showed no signs of waking.

“Um. You had been living in the North in service to House Stark. That was before the siege at King’s Landing though. Mayhap you should stay with the king for a bit before you decide where to go?”

_Decide where to go. So, am I not welcome in the North? I hardly know where to go. I hardly know anything it would seem._

Brienne felt nervous at the thought. She had been killed by fellow soldiers. It seemed logical to Brienne that she would not be welcome among Jon’s army. Thinking on it further, Brienne wondered if anyone would be pleased that she was alive.

“Can I ask you something? Would you swear to only tell me the truth?”

Without hesitation, Jaime nodded eagerly. “Of course. I won’t lie to you.”

“Do I have any friends? Anyone who might _not_ wish me dead?”

Jaime’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t offer an immediate answer. His hesitation made Brienne wonder if it might have been best that she remained in Volantis.

Brienne looked down and sighed. She felt resigned to a fate that may see her needing to flee upon arrival. Before she could voice her concern, Jaime founds his words.

“We’re friends. I’ll take care of you. And there’s Pod.”

“Pod?”

The name was unfamiliar, and Brienne’s frustration with herself began to mount. She wondered how long she had known this ‘Pod’ who Jaime spoke of, and if he knew her better than Jaime did.

_Mayhap he can tell me more of what I’ve been up to._

“Yes. He’s your squire. A good lad.”

Brienne felt her spirits sink.

_Of course. A friend out of duty._

With a heavy sigh, Brienne looked towards the setting sun. “Women can’t be knights. I’m sure he’s a lovely young man, but it might be best that I leave him be. He should serve a true knight. Someone who can train him properly.”

“Were it not for you, he would have died. You trained him and he has grown to be an incredible young man. I’m certain he wants for nothing more than to be at your side and someday be knighted by you. He isn’t just your squire though. I think he fancies you his mother or something. He is quite protective of you.”

Jaime spoke assuredly at her side. The tone caught Brienne by surprise, and she reconciled it was best to not argue the point. Before she could speak again, Jaime spoke once more.

“You have other friends too. Admittedly, I’m not familiar with many of them. They are not fond of me. Opposing sides and all.”

The hurt on his face gave Brienne reason to believe that perhaps he was being honest. It was proving difficult to discern how welcome her presence in Westeros was. Another thought entered her mind then. One she feared giving voice to, but a part of her needed to know.

“You said we are friends?”

Jaime nodded emphatically. “Yes. Well, no one knows me as well as you do. Or I suppose, as well as you did.”

A deep guilt hit Brienne as she watched Jaime’s face fall at the words. It seemed she wasn’t the only one impacted by her inability to remember everything. She was letting down this kind man who gave her aid.

“I’m sorry that I can’t remember you. I want nothing more than to remember it all. But… do you happen to know, seeing as we’re friends and all, is my father alive?”

The color left Jaime’s face at the question, and Brienne feared the worst. As he stammered, Brienne felt her spirits fall.

_I never made amends. I was a terrible daughter to him. The gods did my father a disservice, leaving him with only me._

“He is alive. I believe he is waiting for us to return to King’s Landing. He was there for the summit when Jon was acknowledged as king.”

Brienne’s brows rose. A small smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you. I’m glad he is well. For his sake, I hope he is gone when we return.”

“Why? Don’t you wish to see him?”

Brienne was surprised at the question. Jaime claimed that she knew him better than anyone, but it seemed the opposite was not true. The strained relationship that Brienne had with her father played a significant role in her life.

“Oh. I just assumed that since I knew you so well… I’m sorry. I suppose I’m in no position to assume anything. It’s nothing.”

Jaime shifted to face her more fully. “No. Tell me. You never talked much about Tarth. I don’t know much other than you are an only child.”

Brienne’s brows again furrowed.

_I don’t think he knows me well at all. Are we truly friends?_

“Well, I’m _now_ an only child. I don’t recall anyone bringing my siblings back from death. Gods. My father will be horrified to find out that such an incredible feat was wasted one me. I wish someone had brought my brother back.”

Brienne huffed a small laugh and looked away. The truth in her words felt both painful and humorous. She would gladly exchange her life for Galladon’s.

“You never told me of any siblings. I just assumed you never had any. How many?”

“Three. An older brother who died at eight. Twin sisters who died in the cradle. I don’t much remember them. I remember my mother even less. Though I wonder if I simply forgot that too.”

Brienne could feel Jaime staring at her intently. Glancing to him, she saw the question forming at his tongue.

“How did your mother die?”

“Childbirth.”

Jaime sucked in a deep breath as he looked out over the sea.

“That’s how my mother died.” Jaime paused before looking back to her. “I met your father. He is quite worried about you. I know he will await our return. He is… massive.”

The words themselves were not humorous, but the way Jaime said it made her chuckle.

“Were you expecting someone of average build? He made a monster such as me. Surely he wasn’t to be small.”

Brienne once more chuckled to herself and kicked at some rocks near her feet.

“Don’t say that. You’re not a monster.”

At the words, Brienne startled. Descriptions of her had never been kind and ‘monster’ felt the least cruel of them all. _Beast. Cow. Giantess._

“I know what I look like. It’s quite alright. We needn’t pretend at lies for which the truth is in the mirror.”

It was one teaching from her childhood that stuck with Brienne. While it hurt to receive the lesson from her dreadful septa, Brienne was grateful for it. It proved truer than anything else she learned.

“You could never be a monster to me.”

Brienne snorted. “Yes, well I suppose that’s why we’re friends then. It’s a kindness that you overlook my appearance, but you still have eyes. There is no need to speak falsely between us, though I appreciate the intent.”

Jaime rubbed his forehead and mumbled to himself. “I wish you could remember.”

_Yes, well that would make this easier on us both._

**Jaime**

Jaime was at war with himself. He wished for nothing more than to confess his love for Brienne, but he was trying to be sympathetic to her plight.

It was likely alarming enough having forgotten years of her own life, but to have an unknown man confess his love might well push her over the edge. It would be particularly jarring when she learned that man’s true identity to be the ‘Kingslayer’.

_Gods. She’s going to find out soon. I can’t expect all of Westeros to play into my lie._

Glancing to Jon, Jaime saw the king begin to stir. He groaned inwardly at the timing. Jaime wished for more time to tell Brienne the truth of his identity.

Approaching footsteps signaled the king’s presence. “Are you both well enough to move out? I think we should get back.”

With nods of agreement, they mounted Drogon once more. For Jaime, the physical proximity to Brienne felt incredible, and it was well worth the torture of riding the great beast. Reality would soon set in when they arrived, and it was likely Brienne would want nothing to do with him when she found out who he was.

Jaime felt selfish in taking the opportunity for closeness. He sat flush against Brienne and held her tightly. Breathing in the scent of her, Jaime was transported back to their bed at Winterfell. He missed curling up behind her and holding her close.

Some hours later when they touched down outside of the Red Keep, Jaime held his breath as Tyrion ran to them.

“Thank the gods! You did it! Oh, Ser Brienne! I feared that my br…”

From behind Brienne, Jaime waved his arms frantically at Tyrion and shouted to cut him off. “Yes! Thank you. We’re back. Very successful.”

A strange look flashed across Tyrion’s features when their eyes met.

As they climbed down from Drogon, Jon approached Tyrion and whispered. Shock shone in Tyrion’s eyes as he glanced between Brienne and Jaime. Before Jaime could speak, Tyrion groaned.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jaime glanced nervously at Brienne, but she was distracted by the state of the city. Her eyes were wide as she appraised the extensive damage and lingering smoke.

“Gods. Is this all from the siege? Are the people alright?”

Jon guided Brienne inside as Brienne continued to stare in shock at the state of the castle.

“Lets get you something to eat. There are some sections of the Keep untouched by the dragon’s destruction.”

Glancing over his shoulder at Tyrion, Jon spoke inquisitively; his eyes darting between the Lannister brothers.

“Is Lord Selwyn still here?”

Tyrion guffawed. “That is an understatement. Apparently, he has a lot of ideas for how we should be handling reconstruction efforts. Tarth has been attacked quite a lot by pirates over the years, and he seems accustomed to rebuilding catastrophes such as this. He brought food into the city at dawn to ensure the wounded and homeless were given nourishment. I gather he’ll be back soon.”

_Great. So, I only have so long with Brienne before Lord Selwyn exposes me and casts me out of her life forever._

Jaime wanted to spend as much time with Brienne as he could, but he was taken aback by her request of Jon.

“I imagine you’re quite busy, but would you mind terribly if I took some of your time? I just have some questions.”

Jon glanced at Jaime as though seeking approval, but Jaime could do little more than look to the ground as they walked. For as much as he wanted it, Jaime didn’t feel it was his place to occupy Brienne’s time if it wasn’t what she wanted.

“Of course. Lets get you fed and then we can speak privately.”

Jaime’s eyes darted to Brienne and he could see the hint of a smile tug at her lips. It hurt to see her wishing for another man’s time instead of his. A hint of jealousy gnawed at him, but he swallowed it down. Brienne owed him nothing.

As the group made their way further inside, Jaime excused himself. He wished to be alone and reflect on everything. It was starting to hit him how distressing the situation was. The woman he loved didn’t know him and likely never would.

_Perhaps this is the punishment that I’m owed._

Tyrion cast a strange look at Jaime, but Jaime hadn’t the necessary rest for any conversation with Tyrion. He was tired both physically and emotionally.

“I just need some air.”

Tyrion snorted and rolled his eyes. “You spent the better part of the day on the back of a dragon. Was that not enough air?”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime left without answer. Everything felt as though it was crashing in around him; suffocating him from all sides. The gardens were largely untouched by the dragon’s fiery breath and Jaime was glad of it.

While smoke still lingered over the city, Jaime could see more of the sun than he did while in the North. He sat for some time looking over the Blackwater. Then he heard _that_ voice.

“Ser Jaime. It would seem your flame was more than adequate to restore life.”

_Bran. Gods damnit. Can I not have a moment’s peace?_

Turning around, Jaime saw Arya wheeling Bran towards him. The young wolf rolled her eyes as she placed Bran’s chair beside Jaime.

“I’ve been dealing with him all morning. He insisted on speaking with you. Good luck.”

Arya moved towards the Keep without another word. A deep sigh pushed passed Jaime’s lips as he looked back out over the bay. The young man at his side spoke inquisitively without looking at Jaime.

“You don’t seem pleased to have your love back.”

Jaime rolled his eyes before glancing at Bran. “Did you do this to torture me? Is this my true punishment for my crimes against you and Brienne? I’m nothing to her now.”

A slight hum pushed passed Bran’s lips. “In truth, I did not know how she would return to the living. She may have returned madder than Dany for all I knew. She may have returned with all memories intact. I had no way of knowing. It wasn’t why I showed you everything.”

“Well why did you? You could have just told Jon where to find her. Why show me other than to hurt me?”

Bran turned to Jaime and met his eyes. There was no mirth playing across his features nor in his voice when he spoke.

“There were a few reasons. Mainly, it was the only way for Jon to see what he was meant to become. You showed him what a king should be. Many years ago at Winterfell, he thought you a king. Now he saw you act as one. Without your actions in King’s Landing to lead by example, he would have fled north of the Wall. I hardly wanted what would have come next.”

_Great. So, I’m nothing more than Jon’s muse._

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. “What would have come next?”

Bran smirked. “They would have made me king.”

Jaime scoffed and shook his head. “Gods. I thought it was me who took a brick to the head. Mayhap you were in that Keep after all. You… king? I think not. Master of Whisperers maybe.”

Bran shook his head and looked back over the bay. “It’s as unfathomable as dead rising and dragons flying. I know. I’ll admit, however. Part of my reason for aiding you was rather human. A revenge of my own sort. In a different world where I was named king, my own sister turned against me. I gave Sansa her independence and she waged war against me. She played at peace and collaboration, but she grew hungry for more power once she got a taste of it in the North.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. Bran looked out over the harbor; a slight breeze blowing through his hair as he continued. “As I said, I also needed you to show Jon the way. When Jon died, he had his own regrets. Regrets different from Brienne’s last thoughts. He went to the Night’s Watch to become something other than a bastard. They made him Lord Commander and killed him for his decisions as a leader. He never asked for it. He never wanted it. He returned to life wanting to avoid leadership. He didn’t want anything really. You reminded him what he truly wanted.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Me? I’m hardly an example to anyone. More likely that I’m an example of what _not_ to do.”

With a tone that brokered no argument, Bran looked at Jaime once more and spoke confidently. “You reminded him of two things that once meant everything to him. Love and duty. Love is the greatest form of acceptance we can have. He always wanted to be accepted and you reminded him of the love he lost. Not the fleeting love he felt for Daenerys, but the true love he held for another; Ygritte. Since losing her, Jon had grown despondent. You reminded him of that love. Of how love drove him to do things he otherwise would not.”

Jaime couldn’t continue to look Bran in the eyes. It hurt too much to think on the words. The young man continued speaking at Jaime’s side.

“You reminded him of his duty. The need to fight injustice with justice. When he saw what you did to Cersei, your twin and the woman you once loved, you reminded Jon that we are all called to do things we don’t want for the greater good. If you could kill Cersei after all you were to one another, Jon knew he could do was best for the realm. It is his duty to serve as king, as it was your duty to save it from madness. Had he accepted that responsibility sooner, we might have avoided much of this.”

The words rolled around in Jaime’s mind. If there was one thing that Jaime was confident in, it was what a poor example he was to most. His reputation as a knight was shit and now his reputation in the treatment of noblewoman was equally deplorable.

“Then there is the matter of Ser Brienne herself…”

At Bran’s words, Jaime was shaken from his thoughts. His brows furrowed as he looked to Bran. Bran’s face was often inexpressive, but as Jaime appraised him now, the young man appeared sorrowful.

“Were it not for Ser Brienne, neither of us would be alive.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. She saved you too?”

“Indirectly, yes. If Brienne didn’t save Sansa, Jon would not have fought to reclaim Winterfell. Instead, he would have fled to Essos. Arya would have gone south to kill Cersei. Then she would have left to sail west of Westeros, thinking all her family dead. Daenerys would have focused on the throne and struggled to build allies to unite the kingdoms. Westeros would have been overrun by the dead.”

_Great. My actions killed the woman who saved humanity. Now I feel wonderful._

Suddenly, it felt fitting that Brienne couldn’t remember him. Jaime didn’t feel worthy to be in the same Keep as her let alone have anything he truly wanted with her. A thought swirled in Jaime’s mind that he feared giving voice to, but he needed to know. He wanted Brienne to be happy more than he wanted to find his own happiness.

“Will Brienne regain her memories?”

At the question, Bran tilted his head and looked at Jaime. “I hardly know the answer to that. Not many have been resurrected before. From what I’ve seen, those that were and had lost their memories never regained them.”

The answer wasn’t an unexpected one, but disappointing, nonetheless. Jaime wished for nothing more than to make Brienne happy, even if it meant letting her go.

“Would she be better off not remembering me?”

Bran considered the question before meeting Jaime’s eyes. “I can no sooner tell you when you’ll die. I only see glimpses of things that may come to pass.”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime looked away and nodded. It hurt to consider that Brienne might be better off without him ruining her life more than he already had. As painful as it would be, he at least wanted Brienne to know how much he loved her. It had been his greatest regret followed by his decision to leave Winterfell.

At his side, Bran spoke once more. A hint of curiosity touched his tone. “Kinvara was correct in one thing. Love is greater than thirst for vengeance or hate. I’ve never seen someone raised where love brought them back.”

A smirk tugged at Bran’s lips when he met Jaime’s confused expression. “Mayhap a love great enough to beat death, can also be great enough to restore memory.”

A spark of hope lit in Jaime at Bran’s words. Considering something, he narrowed his eyes at the young man. “Couldn’t you just visit her in sleep and show her everything?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Bran’s lips curled into a vicious smirk.

_Seven hells. He does intend to punish me with this._

Chuckling more to himself than Jaime, Bran looked back out at the bay. “No, in truth, it doesn’t quite work that way. I’ve only been able to enter the mind of those nearest death, which you were, or those who are simple. The mind is more open to such invasions. I can no sooner visit Brienne’s dreams than I can enter your mind now. I can’t explain how it works, but it simply doesn’t. Trust me, I’ve tried. I could have spared us all much trouble.”

_Oh. I suppose he isn’t a complete dick. Then again, I pushed him from a window, so he would have been within his right to refuse aid._

Bran looked to Jaime once more with a serious expression on his face. “I will offer this advice from my more human experiences. Communicate. Words can work wonders. You and Brienne should try it some time.”


	10. Strangers and Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne speaks with Jon. Brienne and Jaime then have a spar.

**Brienne**

“Thank you for speaking with me. I know you’re busy and I won’t take much of your time.” Brienne spoke as she sat opposite Jon in in the small room at the Keep.

He had apologized for the state of things. The castle was in shambles after the siege. Large sections of the Keep were unusable as teams of skilled laborers worked to restore it.

The room they were in appeared to have been a guest room. There was a large bed at one corner with modest offerings scattered throughout, including the table Brienne and Jon now sat at.

Jon smiled warmly and shook his head. “It’s no trouble at all. It’s the least I can do for you after how much you’ve done for my family and the realm.”

_How strange to be told such things that I can’t recall._

Taking a deep breath, Brienne began to address the first matter on her mind.

“This Jaime Hill… sometimes I think he’s going out of his way to be nice to me. It makes me wonder why. Perhaps he feels some guilt? Was he involved in my death? I… I saw his eyes in my dream as I’m dying, but he turns away.”

Jon’s brows rose to his hairline at the words. He looked away as if searching for the answer. With a heavy sigh, he spoke less than confidently.

“He wasn’t there. You two were quite close before your death. It would be an understatement to say he was devastated. As to why you see the visions you do in sleep, I can only tell you that it isn’t uncommon. I saw the face of someone important to me when I died, but she wasn’t there for my death.”

Brienne considered the words. Her brows knitted together as she recalled what Jon had shared of his death.

“The red priestess asked what I thought of when I died. My regrets and feelings. What did you recall?”

The question seemed to pain Jon and Brienne immediately regretted being so invasive. In truth, she felt alone, and Jon was in a unique position to commiserate with. It gave Brienne comfort to know that someone else went through the same experience; even if under different circumstances.

“I grew up a bastard and I was treated as such. The lady of Winterfell hated me, though I can’t say that I blame her. I always wanted to know who my mother was, and I wanted to feel accepted, but there was nothing for me in the North. I felt as though I had no purpose, so I joined the Night’s Watch. It seemed a place that I could make a difference and be something more than a bastard. When they named me Lord Commander, I didn’t want it, but I did my duty. Then they killed me for it and I regretted it. I regretted joining and accepting the role of Lord Commander. It was the last thing I remembered. Not wanting it.”

Jon huffed a small laugh. “When the red priestess brought me back, I wanted to leave. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere until you showed up with Sansa. She looked to broken and sad. You saved her life and rescued her from House Bolton. She convinced me to help her reclaim Winterfell. When we won and the vassals named me king in the North, I didn’t want it. I hated it. In a way, I was relived when Daenerys showed up. Once I saw her fight for us, I thought she would make a good queen, and so I bent the knee. I didn’t know of my true lineage then, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. I didn’t want to be king of the Seven Kingdoms any more than I wanted to be king in the North.”

Nodding slowly, Brienne digested the information. The man before her seemed as resigned to the crown as she felt resigned to another life without love.

“Why did you take it then? The crown that is.”

Jon scratched at his chin and sighed. “It was Jaime. He did something that reminded me of the man I wanted to be _before_ I died. He reminded me of the things I was taught and the role that I was meant to play. He’s a good man and he made some difficult decisions for the greater good.”

_A good man. But why does he feel different to me than Jon? I don’t remember either of them, but something feels deeper with Jaime._

A hint of unease touched Brienne’s tone as she met Jon’s eyes. “Did you forget things as I have?”

The look on Jon’s face was answer enough. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why you forgot so much. Gods, I don’t know if it’s a blessing or curse.”

Brienne’s lips turned down as she looked to her hands. Her last question was one that she was slightly embarrassed to ask. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before glancing at Jon.

“I feel a bit foolish in asking this, but I think that Jaime is trying to be delicate with me. It’s as though he doesn’t want me to know the truth of what happened. I’m fearful of overstaying my welcome. It seems I was disliked enough that I was killed. Should I leave? Please be honest with me. It would hurt more to stay, thinking my presence wanted. I don’t want to trouble anyone.”

Jon’s eyes went wide. “You are well regarded. It was a small group that killed you. A group that had history with you and Jaime. They were members of House Bolton. The two of you had dealings with the House before the war and it seems they harbored much hate for him in particular. Well, it was likely they remembered your involvement in helping us reclaim Winterfell from their liege lord.”

A slight relief washed over Brienne. She had feared being unknowingly hated for having returned. Before she could offer her thanks at Jon’s honestly, he spoke again.

“You are a knight and one of the best we have. Not only are you one of our most skilled fighters, your loyalty is unrivaled. I was hoping you might consider becoming the Lady Commander of my Kingsguard. Of course, I intend to change the law so that Kingsguard may marry. I couldn’t ask you otherwise.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. It was an incredible honor, but it felt unearned. She couldn’t remember the people around her let alone whatever she had done to be considered in such a way.

“Your Grace that is an incredible honor. To be honest, I’m not much concerned with your affording the rite of marriage to the Kingsguard. It was never an option for me anyway. I struggle to understand how I could have earned your consideration. All I recall is being a soldier in Renly’s camp. Even then, I wasn’t well-regarded by the men. I was a great jape to them.”

Jon’s lips pressed into a firm line and his eyes shone with sympathy. “I understand the feeling of not being accepted. Trust me in that you were, and you still are. I can’t ask for your answer now. There are many things that you should know first. You’re the heir to your House and there are _other_ considerations which are not my place to share. You should speak with Jaime. He likely has an opinion or two on the matter.”

_Gods. Back to this Jaime fellow again._

Brienne bit her lip and considered Jon’s words. Her hand twitched as it reached for a sword that wasn’t there. It was a reaction that startled Brienne, as she never used to have such a nervous habit. With a slight hum, Brienne spoke more to herself than Jon.

“He feels so familiar to me. I don’t know why.”

Jon chuckled from across the table. “Aye, as I said. You two were close. I don’t have much firsthand account of your history together. My cousin, Lord Bran, shared much of your journey with me and the others.”

“I’m sorry. How do I know Lord Bran? Does he know me well? Who has he shared information with?”

The questions seemed straightforward enough, but Jon’s response made them seem anything but.

“You should speak with Bran. My cousin sees things. He can see into the past and he has visions of the future. I know it sounds unbelievable, but so does everything of late. When the siege at King’s Landing happened, we were uncertain about Jaime’s intentions. He was unconscious for the past moon turn, so Bran shared it all. He spoke to me, his sister Arya, and Lord Tyrion Lannister. You and Jaime have _quite_ the history together.”

Jon chuckled at his own words before composing himself. “If nothing else, your journey together helped my cousin, Arya, see that she can remain true to herself while accepting her role at Winterfell among _other_ things. Oh! And Pod! We told Pod immediately.”

At the name, Brienne’s spirits lifted. “Jaime mentioned a Pod as well. Mayhap he can help me remember some things."

Jon smiled warmly at Brienne. “Jaime and Pod are the best chance you’ll have of piecing it all together. Your squire was quite upset when he heard of everything. I believe you’re the closest thing he has to kin.”

Hope blossomed in Brienne as she stood from her seat. “Thank you. I appreciate it. It’s nice to not feel alone in this. I just wish I could remember it all.”

Standing from across the table, Jon nodded. “Aye, it is. I would be happy to speak with you anytime you like. There don’t seem to be many of us walking around. The resurrected that is.”

**Jaime**

After spending some time staring out at the Blackwater with Bran, Jaime spotted Brienne roaming the gardens in the distance. Without so much as a parting word to Bran, Jaime leapt from his perch on the rock wall and ran to her.

“Ser Brienne. All done with that dull, brooding king?”

Brienne’s eyes widened at the words. “You can’t speak of your king that way. It isn’t proper.”

“When have I ever been proper?”

As soon as the words were out, Jaime’s spirits fell at the recollection that she didn’t remember anything about him, including his inappropriateness. With a disappointed sigh, Jaime shrugged.

“Sorry. Where are you going?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly as she peered over Jaime’s shoulder. “King Jon said the training yards were out here somewhere. I just need a sword in hand to feel more myself.”

Jaime understood the feeling. With a sword in hand, his blood sang. Nothing felt so good as fighting or fucking, but he couldn’t very well do the latter at the moment. The thought went straight to his cock as his traitorous mind conjured images from the moon turn he spent in Brienne’s bed, exploring her body.

“I’ll spar with you. I know where the training yards are.”

Without awaiting a response, Jaime put his flesh hand on the small of Brienne’s back and urged her forward. Sparring with Brienne was one of the things that Jaime missed most. They seemed made for one another when they fought together.

It was as though his body could always sense her next move. When they fought the dead at Winterfell, her limbs felt a mere extension of his own. He could sense when she needed aid, and she the same of him.

As they walked to the yards, Jaime spoke of her impressive combat record. He informed Brienne of her defeat of the Hound in single combat, and her successful leadership in the battle against the dead.

“My track record in combat isn’t as stellar. From what I’m privy to, you’re two for two.”

Brienne snorted and shook her head. “The Hound? Sandor Clegane? Truly, you jape. What reason would I even have to fight him?”

“Your oath to Lady Catelyn. The Hound would not release Arya Stark to you.”

As they reached the yards, Jaime moved to the armory to retrieve two swords. When he returned, Brienne was standing in the middle of the yards stretching. A smile tugged at his lips when he handed her a sword.

He watched her grasp the hilt and roll her wrist back and forth, testing the sword’s weight and her grip. They lined up across from one another, raising their swords.

Appraising her, Jaime reminded himself that she had spent a full day dead after two moons of malnourishment on the road. Her body was weak and likely unable to go full speed. The bruising from the noose around her neck was a constant reminder of how dark his world could have remained.

Remembering their fight on the bridge, Jaime smirked. She never made the first move. Her strategy was assessing her opponent’s style and taking advantage of being underestimated.

When they first fought, Jaime had gone on the offensive; not taking her seriously. His strategy was proven horribly wrong when she gained the upper hand before Locke arrived. The incredible strength she possessed had been what caught him most by surprise.

They circled one another and Jaime bit back a laugh as Brienne’s brows furrowed. She likely wondered why he had yet to attack.

“I’ve fought you before. Don’t think me so foolish as to rush in unprepared.”

Realization dawned on Brienne and a small huff of laughter pushed passed her lips. “Ah. Yes. Very well.”

Unexpectedly, Brienne surged forward. The sudden movement caught Jaime unaware and he found himself quickly back on his heels. Her blows were stronger than he expected.

A wide smile tugged at Jaime’s lips once he steadied himself and countered. _Typical Brienne. Even after just coming back from death, she is stronger than most._

They sparred for some time and Jaime hadn’t noticed the presence of Bronn and Tyrion at the edge of the yards. The two knights moved as they did during the battle at Winterfell. It seemed Brienne’s body remembered what her mind could not.

For Jaime, nothing had changed. The thought of her retaining familiarity with his style was a pleasant surprise. They went back and forth for some time until Jaime could see Brienne fading.

It was too much of a physical exertion on her body after the ordeal it had been through. Feigning his own fatigue, Jaime proposed a water break. When his sword dropped to his side, a smile curled at the corners of Brienne’s lips.

“Thank you. I feel much better now.”

Jaime felt his heart beat faster at the sight of her smile. Before he could respond, Brienne’s brows knitted as something indecipherable flashed across her features. Glancing at him, Brienne spoke uncertainly.

“It’s strange. It was as though I knew what you would do before you did it. Like my body knew yours and how it should respond.”

A spark of hope ignited in Jaime as he took a step towards her; a smile spreading across his face. Loud laughter echoed through the yards. Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime saw Bronn slap his knee and smirk.

“Oh yeah. Ya could say ya know one another’s bodies _intimately_.”

Jaime felt his cheeks redden in rage at Bronn. A forming reprimand died at Jaime’s lips when he heard Brienne’s shaky voice at his back.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Turning back to Brienne, Jaime noticed the blush spreading across her face as she moved quickly towards the armory to return the sword.

“Brienne, wait. Bronn is a fucking idiot. Ignore him.”

Jaime caught up and grabbed her wrist before she could leave the armory. “Please, stop. I’m not embarrassed.”

“He mocked you because of me. I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would take my meaning _that_ way.”

Brienne refused to meet his eyes as Jaime kept his hand firmly around her wrist. “He didn’t mock me. He was being rude, but that’s just the way he is. You should ignore him.”

When he felt confident that Brienne wouldn’t run from him, Jaime released her wrist and tried desperately to read her expression.

“I only meant to say that fighting you felt… familiar. I suppose that was stupid to say anyway. You said we fought together so I imagine we trained together. Correct?”

Brienne peered at him through her lashes. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes and Jaime wanted to give an honest answer.

“We fought only once before facing the dead together. After the dead, we sparred almost daily for a moon turn before I left for the siege.”

A small smile formed at Brienne’s lips. It seemed a validation she needed.

“Thank you. For sparring with me that is. The men at Renly’s camp refused to. They likely thought they would be mocked as you were just now. Of course, it doesn’t help when I say stupid things like that.”

It was an opportunity that Jaime couldn’t resist. Remembering Bran’s words from earlier, Jaime summoned the courage and tried to convey what he was feeling.

“Well then they were great dolts who were likely afraid of getting knocked into the dirt by a better opponent. And I wasn’t being mocked. Bronn was teasing me because…”

Like the night of the feast, Jaime’s mouth went dry. His heart raced as past opportunities for honesty came and went.

_Because… I came to Winterfell because…_

Brienne’s brows furrowed as Jaime stammered slightly. His palm began to sweat, and Jaime questioned the timing of it all.

_She still has no idea who I am. She thinks I’m Jaime Hill._

Before Jaime could continue, Tyrion came to the armory door. “Pardon the interruption. Ser Brienne, your father is looking for you.” Glancing at Jaime, Tyrion raised a brow. “Bronn is holding him off.”

_Seven hells._

“Thank you, Lord Tyrion.” Brienne’s lips pressed into a formal smile as Tyrion walked away. Before leaving, Brienne glanced at Jaime.

“Do you mind if we spar again some time?”

A triumphant smile spread across Jaime’s face as his eyes sparkled. “I would like that.”

“Good.” Brienne hesitated slightly; a thought at the tip of her tongue as she looked back at him. “You’re not so bad, you know. I can tell the left is your offhand. It was the sword hand you lost, correct?”

Jaime snorted. An amused expression lined his features. “Wow. I’m glad that I’m not _so bad_. Were you going easy on me? Yes, I lost the sword hand. I can assure you though, I was not much better with the right. I thought I was, but a better opponent put me in my place. I suppose I was a bit _overpraised_.”

“Yes, well, mayhap if you keep working at it.” 

Brienne’s matter-of-fact tone elicited a loud guffaw from Jaime. With a spark of amusement in his eye, Jaime bit his lip to collect himself before providing a parting thought of his own.

“Yes, well, mayhap I can offer you some advice. You shouldn’t grimace before you lunge. It gives away the game.”

At his words, Brienne startled. Turning back to him, Brienne’s brows furrowed, and her mouth gaped slightly.

_Gods. Did she remember that?_

Jaime took a step forward, his eyes searching hers. “Brienne. Are you alright? Did you remember something.”

A heavy silence hung over them as Brienne seemed to work something out in her mind. It was as thought she was reciting something from a story rather than her own life.

“You were slower than I expected.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide, and his hand moved to her cheek, urging her eyes to meet his. “Yes! You remember that?”

“Was that a conversation we had? I just… it’s the strangest feeling. It’s like we’ve had this conversation before. I can hear the words, but I can’t see it. The full memory isn’t there.”

“Yes, we have. We said those things to each other.”

Brienne’s brows remained furrowed as she stared into his eyes. “Did I fight you before you lost your hand?”

Jaime swallowed thickly and glanced down at his false hand. “Yes, you did.”

“Huh. Strange.” Brienne sighed and shook her head. As she left the armory, Jaime felt an overwhelming relief wash over him.

_If she can remember that, surely I can get her to remember the rest._


	11. Trust and Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has lunch with Tyrion, Bronn, and Pod. Brienne has lunch with Selwyn. What could possibly go wrong?

**Jaime**

Jaime could feel Pod glaring at him from across the table in the great hall. After the spar with Brienne, Jaime had felt hunger set in. It had been some time since he ate a proper meal, and his body was beginning to fatigue from its own ordeal. Despite it, Jaime felt weightless.

A smile was plastered across his face from the recent development in the armory. Jaime was determined to find the Tarly boy and see if he could help. After hearing Jon praise Sam’s skill, and learning of the successful treatment to cure Ser Jorah’s greyscale, Jaime wondered if the man could figure out a solution for Brienne’s memory.

From what Tyrion said, Brienne was taking lunch in the garden with her father. Begrudgingly, Jaime agreed to take lunch with Tyrion, Bronn, and Pod.

Jaime was still seething from Bronn’s comment in the yards. Although vexing, Jaime found it difficult to be too upset at the sellsword given the conversation it prompted in the armory. With a sigh, Jaime put down his fork.

It had not been an hour since Jaime last saw Brienne, but it felt an eternity. As Jaime sat quietly listening to Tyrion and Bronn talk, he recalled the past events that prompted Brienne’s memory.

Visions of their fight on the bridge and riding a horse back-to-back came to the forefront of his mind. A foolish grin spread across Jaime’s face as the memory played out in his mind. Jaime glanced up and met the cold stare of Pod.

It was the first time he truly looked at the young man since Winterfell. The anger radiating off Pod was palpable. Aside from Selwyn, Pod felt another obstacle to securing Brienne’s forgiveness.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself. What you did to Ser Brienne was disgusting. I want for nothing more than to run you through with Oathkeeper.”

While Bran, Arya, Jon, and Tyrion had told Pod of Jaime’s intent in leaving Winterfell, Pod hardly shared their willingness to accept his approach. In truth, Pod cared little for what Jaime intended when it had such an adverse effect on Brienne’s feelings.

Bronn chuckled at Pod’s side and clapped the boy’s shoulders. “Poddy boy, I’ve missed ya. This cunt here has been draggin’ me around, nearly gettin’ me killed for years. What do I have to show for it? Death glares. I jumped in front of a dragon for his stupid arse!”

At the words, Tyrion groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That was truly stupid, Jaime. I don’t recall if I told you as much at Winterfell.”

Rage coursed through Jaime as he ignored Tyrion and looked at Bronn.

“Did you share with _Poddy boy_ how you threatened to kill his lady knight?”

At Jaime’s words, Pod’s head snapped to Bronn. “What!?”

Putting up defensive hands, Bronn leaned away from the table. “I didn’t give no names.”

“You had a crossbow aimed at us! You had already mentioned Brienne, and then you said that you would pick off a couple of Daenerys’ top generals! Who the fuck did you mean if not Brienne!?”

Tyrion put a steadying hand on Jaime’s arm and tried to calm him. Nearby castle occupants looked over in concern at the scene playing out.

Bronn leaned across the table at Jaime. His lips curled in anger as he spoke. “So what if I let ya _think_ that I meant her. Apparently, ya did a lot of thinkin’ and not a lot of talkin’. I’m not the one who left her alone in a courtyard. I’m not the one who caused that cunt to turn on her. I’m certainly not the one who is the reason she is known as ‘Kingslayer’s Whore’. Ya left me in King’s Landin’ with ya batshit crazy sister, and I _still_ didn’t murder ya! I helped ya when ya needed it _again_.”

Unable to control himself further, Jaime stood abruptly and wound back his fist to hit Bronn square across the jaw, but another hand got to Bronn’s face first.

Bronn fell backwards to the floor at the impact to his nose; his eyes wide in shock. Glancing at Pod, Jaime saw nothing but rage on his face.

“Don’t say _that_ name! Ser Brienne is not, and never was the Kingslayer’s…” Pod looked away in anger before turning back to Bronn. “She deserved better than all of you.”

The young man stormed away from the table, leaving them staring in shock. Bronn groaned as blood poured from his nose.

“Fuckin’ hells. My nose!”

Tyrion smirked at the sellsword; amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Oh shut up. It’s not broken. You should know. Remember.”

At Tyrion’s reference to their conversation in the North, Bronn huffed a small laugh. “Gods damned Lannisters. My life has been truly exhaustin’. No amount of coin is worth all the shit I gotta put up with.”

Without another word, Bronn left the table in a huff. Jaime glared at Tyrion and took a steadying breath.

“How can you even associate with him!? Did you lose your memory too? He threatened us at Winterfell! Whether he said her name or not, he threatened Brienne. If that wasn’t bad enough, he embarrassed her in the yards!”

“And yet he aided us. He saved you _again_. Everything he said in the dragonpit was true. He followed you south from Winterfell. He hid you from the Unsullied. He found a maester to treat you before we could safely bring you into the Keep. He then sat at your bedside for a gods damned moon turn, tending to you. He was practically a nursemaid while I was sitting in a damn cell.”

Jaime grumbled and pushed away his plate. Burying his head in his arms, Jaime closed his eyes and willed it all away. He just wanted to hold Brienne and try to help her remember more.

Knowing that she was with her father set him on edge. It was likely the older lord was busy expressing his distaste for Jaime and finding a way to get Brienne back to Tarth.

A warm hand came to Jaime’s shoulder.

“I can’t imagine how it must feel to watch Brienne look at you with as much recognition as a stranger, but please, try to remember that you weren’t the only one hurt by all of this.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed as met Tyrion’s eyes. “What?”

Tyrion sighed and took a sip of his wine. “Pod has been a mess. He wanted to kill Sansa himself, but refrained from doing so as he feared letting down Brienne. He’ll come around. I don’t think he truly hates you deep down, but you hurt the most important person in his life; even if unintentionally.”

Taking a deep breath, Tyrion played with the stem of his wine cup up before continuing. “From what I’ve heard, Selwyn was a nightmare to deal with. I suppose it was best that I was in the cells. The man was practically dragged to the pit yesterday by Davos and Gendry. He wanted little more than to charge ahead on a horse and collect his daughter’s body. His _last_ living kin. He thought himself the last Tarth. Apparently, he has _many_ regrets where it concerns Brienne. Then of course, there is me…”

Tyrion rolled his eyes and took another sip of wine.

“You!? You hardly know Brienne. How could you have been hurt by everything that befell her?”

“That may be true, but my brother is quite important to me. Have you met him? Tall, one hand, greatest dolt who ever lived.”

Tyrion scoffed and looked away before taking a deep breath. “You let me think Cersei was pregnant with your babe. I tired to treat with her because of it. I thought I could appeal to the only human quality she ever possessed. Had I known the truth, I wouldn’t have paraded Daenerys, her dragon, nor her army before the city gates to intimidate Cersei into surrendering. My failed effort to spare the life of a non-existent babe. Missandei might not have been executed and none of this shit would have happened.”

Jaime felt himself sinking deeper into some awful pit from which he could never crawl out. He inwardly berated himself for more unintended consequences from his lack of communication. At his side, Tyrion took another sip of wine before slapping the cup down angrily.

“Then, you neglect to tell me the truth of your return south! I nearly got myself killed for you! I set you free thinking it would make you happy to be with Cersei, even though I knew it would mean my own death! I spent hours searching for your body, Jaime!”

Tyrion ran an angry hand over his face and took a deep breath. “And while yes, I hardly know Brienne, I’m quite distraught at the loss of a true niece or nephew. One that I could watch my brother hold and be a father to. A niece or nephew that I could spend time with, without the scrutinizing eye of our _lovely_ sister. It broke my heart what happened to the children. Now another is gone.”

Jaime reeled back as if slapped. At the mention of the babe lost to Sansa’s cruelty, Jaime felt a sea of churned up emotions; each more despondent than the last. Self-loathing won out as he stared intently at his half-eaten food.

“So maybe I should be the one who goes to Essos. It sems that I’m only capable of fucking things up. Then you won’t have to worry about me destroying your life just as I’ve destroyed Brienne’s and apparently everyone else.”

Tyrion huffed in annoyance and turned on his seat to face Jaime fully.

“Stop being melodramatic. You are always so quick to rush in without a plan. You have very little regard for consequences. Don’t you?”

Tyrion looked pointedly to Jaime’s false hand before continuing.

“While your intentions are often in the right place, your execution is shit. Further, your inability to communicate anything that might render you vulnerable is pathetic. Now you have a second chance. A chance that most of us never get, and you’re fucking it up.”

“Fucking it up? I’ve only just returned from Volantis with her!”

Tyrion snorted and crossed his arms. “Oh, yes. Only a day in and already you’re off to another shit start, Jaime _Hill_. You’ve lied to a woman who has forgotten years of her life. A woman in desperate of honesty right now.”

Realization hit Jaime as his eyes went wild with fear.

_Oh fuck. She’s having lunch with Selwyn. He doesn’t know of my lie._

**Brienne**

It was strange seeing her father knowing that it had been years, but to Brienne, it only felt like moons. He looked older and weary. There was a stillness to him that she had never thought possible. He was a man always on the move with very little time for her on Tarth.

“You never wrote. Not once.” Selwyn bit his lip and looked away to collect himself. “The only thing I heard of you was a ransom note from House Bolton. A ransom, mind you, that was rejected! You truly couldn’t think to write me after that?”

“I don’t know why. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to say or do. You keep saying things to me as though I should have an answer for events that seem little more than a story rather than my life.”

Brienne felt her frustration building. It was a frightening sensation to come back from death and hold no knowledge of the woman she became to those around her.

Brienne wondered if there were others among them who, like the Bolton soldiers, harbored an unspoken hatred for her.

_Will they try to hang me again or worse? Gods. I don’t want to be raised again if it happens._

A large hand gripped at her forearm as Brienne closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Strangely, all she could think of was wanting to see Jaime. His eyes lit up the darkness behind her eyelids.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you, child. Just days ago, I arrived to find out you were exiled to Essos. Then before the dragonpit meeting, I’m told you died. Now you’re here before me, and you can’t remember a bloody thing of it. I’m overwhelmed is all. I imagine you’re just as confused, if not more so.”

Brienne sighed and opened her eyes. She remembered her father’s last words before she left Tarth for Renly’s camp.

_‘Come back with a husband or not at all.’ What did he expect of me? What does he expect from me now? Clearly, he can see from how I was killed that I am far from lovable. I can’t be what he needs._

“I imagine you didn’t hear from me, because I had nothing to say that would please you. I’m sorry that I am all you were left with. I wish the gods had seen fit to raise Galladon instead of me. You would have a proper heir for Tarth. I can’t give you what you want. I’m not… no man will have me.”

Selwyn grimaced at the words and looked away. His knuckles rapped the table as he struggled with something.

“Don’t speak of yourself in such a way. The gods took pity on me by bringing you back. Losing you would have been the death of me.”

The words shocked Brienne. Her father had always been emotionally distant after her siblings and mother died, but such words had never graced his lips.

With a heavy sigh, Selwyn shook his head and met her eyes. “I don’t want you near the Kingslayer. I don’t care what his intentions were. I don’t care how many times he saved this godsforsaken city.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the words.

“The Kingslayer? Why would I be near the man? I’ve never even met him. What does the Kingslayer have to do with any of this?”

A sarcastic laugh pushed passed Selwyn’s lips as he looked to her. When he saw the confusion in her sapphire pools, Selwyn’s eyes went wide.

“What? You jest. The Kingslayer is at the very heart of this! Who the hells do you think brought you back here!?”

Brienne’s brows knitted in confusion. “King Jon and Jaime Hill.” As the words came out, realization dawned on Brienne.

_Did he lie to me? Is his name Jaime Lannister?_

Selwyn stared at her in shock. Without another word, Brienne’s father stood from his seat. His massive hand rubbed at his face. A grunt of frustration erupted from his lips as he looked towards the Keep and grumbled.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Uncertain what to make of the situation, Brienne sat rooted in place. As if on cue, Jaime came running into the gardens with Tyrion struggling to keep up. “Brienne!”

In the distance, Selwyn cut off Jaime’s path to Brienne. His hand came up to halt Jaime’s progress. Brienne observed her father berating Jaime from a distance. For his part, Jaime only grimaced and took the verbal thrashing.

Needing to know for herself who he truly was, Brienne stood from her seat and walked over slowly. Her eyes were a question as she stared at Jaime. Moving towards her, Jaime put up a defensive hand. At his back, Tyrion and Selwyn continued squabbling.

If Brienne wasn’t so upset at the potential betrayal of her trust, she might have laughed at the pair over Jaime’s shoulders. Each of their necks strained to look at the other.

“Brienne. I’m so sorry! I just… I was afraid to tell you my last name without you knowing me first.”

“Are you the Kingslayer? Jaime _Lannister_?”

The look on Jaime’s face was confession enough.

“I can explain! Please.”

It felt as though the wind was knocked out of Brienne. She had trusted Jaime, and he couldn’t be honest enough to share his identity. “You lied to me.”

Desperation flashed in Jaime’s eyes as he glanced to Brienne. “Please. It’s the _only_ thing I lied about. You forgot all we’ve been through together. If I told you who I was when you only knew me as the Kingslayer, you wouldn’t have returned with us.”

Anger and betrayal flared in Brienne as realization sunk in.

_He lied to me. I asked for honesty and he took advantage of me._

“So because you can’t control my feelings or how you think I’ll react, you lie? I trusted you. I thought you were a good man.”

Hurt shone in Jaime’s eyes at the words. At his back, Tyrion and Selwyn continue to bicker; their arms pointing frantically at Jaime. Brienne couldn’t be bothered to listen to what they were saying. Since returning to this world, the man she thought trustworthy had betrayed her.

_Was King Jon lying too? Am I not well-regarded? Is my presence not wanted?_

An incredible pain and hurt gripped Brienne. She took a step back and felt as though she needed to get away from everyone. Moving towards the Keep, Brienne made her way to the room that Jon had assigned her.

With the door shut and locked, Brienne sat on the bed and cried. She felt lost and alone; a harsh reminder of how alone she was before death.

_Gods. Why did the bring me back? Why would I befriend the Kingslayer? It makes no sense._

A knock at the door cut through Brienne’s thoughts. “Brienne.”

Jaime’s voice called out from the other side of the door. The sound of his voice brought another wave of pain. Conflicting emotions waged war inside Brienne.

She simultaneously wanted to see Jaime and send him away. It seemed that the only person who made her feel comfortable was the same person who lied to her.

“What?” Brienne refused to stand from the bed and let him in. He did nothing to earn such a response.

“Please, Brienne. Let me explain. I’ll leave after if you like.”

As much as she her head screamed to leave Jaime out in the hallway, Brienne’s heart couldn’t allow it. For reasons she couldn’t begin to understand, Brienne stood up and walked towards the door. She took pause and placed her forehead against the door.

_Just hear him out. You owe him that much for his efforts with Jon; even if wasted on her._

Opening the door, Brienne saw Jaime leaning against the doorframe. Before she could say a word, he walked in with a solemn expression on his face. Something seemed familiar about it, but she stuffed the thought down and closed the door behind him.

When Jaime turned to face her, Brienne averted her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Brienne. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I was afraid. When we first met, you hated me because of my reputation. We’ve known each other for years and I thought…”

As Jaime paused, Brienne glanced at him. His face looked pained as he struggled to put into words whatever was running through his head.

“You of course don’t remember it all, but you saw me as something other than the Kingslayer before you died. You were the only one who did. The only person who thought I was a good man. When you said you didn’t remember me, I was afraid you would hate me if I was honest. I didn’t want to be the Kingslayer to you again. I didn’t lie to you about anything else. Just my name.”

Brienne could sense Jaime’s sincerity. His reasoning was sound, but she still hated being lied to. It was frightening not knowing anyone around her. Only her father was a familiar face, but Westeros was greatly changed. She felt changed, but she didn’t know why or how.

“All I asked from you was honesty. I don’t need false words right now. I just want to know what I’ve forgotten, and you deprived me of that.”

Jaime’s features twisted at the words. She didn’t mean to keep belaboring the point, but it was difficult to convey how lost she felt.

“Of course. You have the right of it. I swear that I’ll never lie to you again, no matter how hard the truth is. Please. Just give me another chance. A truce of sorts.”

“You need trust to have a truce.”

“I trust you.”

The words startled Brienne. As had happened in the armory earlier, Brienne sensed a familiarity to the words.

_We’ve had this conversation before. Where did we have this conversation before?_

Rapid footsteps cut through Brienne’s thoughts as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her. “Please, Brienne. No more lies. I swear it.”

Brienne let herself sink into his embrace. She didn’t know why, but it felt right. It felt like home. Then she felt his false hand press cool against her back and she remembered. Suddenly it all made sense.

_Gods, what a fool. He lost Cersei. His love. The woman he lost his hand for._

Pushing back from Jaime, Brienne rubbed her neck and swayed nervously. She was never one with words and social graces for such things. “I’m very sorry about Cersei.”

“What? Cersei?”

Glancing at Jaime, Brienne shrugged. “You said you lost your hand for the love of your life. I didn’t know of course that you were Jaime Lannister. I know of the rumors of course. Everyone did. There was a war because of it after all. You abandoned her, your love, to fight for the living. She died during the siege you said?”

Jaime’s jaw flapped as if he was in a stupor. “Yes and no. Yes, I abandoned Queen Cersei to fight for the living, and yes, she died in the siege after we defeated the dead. She wasn’t the woman I lost my hand for. She wasn’t the woman I love.”

Confusion filled Brienne’s mind. Everything she knew of the war was based on the twins forbidden love that spawned false kings.

“I apologize. I just assumed… I shouldn’t have.”

An awkward silence fell over them as Jaime played with the edge of his jerkin at his false hand. “It’s fine. You aren’t wrong. I _thought_ I loved her. It was wrong and the entire relationship was unhealthy. It wasn’t until I met the woman I love, that I began to realize how twisted my relationship with Cersei had been. I don’t know why I lingered at Cersei’s side as long as I did. Perhaps a sense of duty. She was still my sister after all. We had an unhealthy reliance on one another. I suppose I just didn’t know how to leave.”

Something gnawed at Brienne. The man before her was nothing like she would have expected the Kingslayer to be. Rumors of his arrogance and dishonor were as renowned as his skill with a sword.

“If I ask you a question you don’t like, will you still be honest with me?”

Jaime’s eyes widened as he nodded eagerly in agreement. “Of course. No lies.”

“Why did you kill Aerys?”


	12. Vows and Oaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime tells the truth of Aerys and Brienne is reunited with Pod.

**Jaime**

_Why?_

Jaime stammered slightly and tried to shake the shock from his mind. As he pushed away the surprise at her question, a smile spread across his face.

“No one has ever asked me that before.”

Brienne’s brows knitted together in response. A slight ‘oh’ formed at her lips. “Not even your family?”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “Definitely not my family. They’ve always been rather underwhelmed by me.”

Scratching his head, Jaime looked around the room. “Can we sit?”

There didn’t appear to be chairs in the room. In truth, most of the rooms lacked a good deal of furniture. While the guest wing was largely untouched and currently housing everyone, the family wing was in disarray.

Sitting beside Brienne on the edge of the bed, Jaime had to resist the urge to grab her hand. He took a steadying breath and told Brienne the truth of it.

“I was the only Kingsguard with Aerys. The others were at the Trident with Prince Rheagar, or in Dorne for reasons no one knew at the time. I’ve come to learn that the Kingsguard in Dorne were there to guard Lyanna Stark, who was birthing Jon or rather, Aegon. My father and Aerys had a falling out before all that. Do you know of that?”

Brienne shook her head in refute. With a nod, Jaime continued.

“My father had been Hand, but as Aerys grew madder, my father grew more distrustful of the king. Then Aerys named me to his Kingsguard and my father was furious. I was the eldest son and heir, so my father thought it a slight; particularly given his only other son was Tyrion.”

Jaime huffed a laugh. “Tyrion would make a far better lord than me. He was always much more political like my father. I just wanted to be a knight. Cersei had convinced me to join the Kingsguard so that we could remain… _close_.”

As shame washed over Jaime, he glanced at Brienne to ensure that she understood the meaning. When she nodded in understanding, he continued.

“Well I learned quickly that my appointment was less meant as an honor, and more intended as a political hostage of sorts. Aerys knew that so long as he had me under this thumb, the West would not rebel. For much of the war, my father stayed out of it. Aerys never let me leave and I heard rumors. Whispers throughout the Keep. Tales of pyromancers working around the clock to set out wildfire throughout the city tunnels.”

Jaime again glanced at Brienne. Her brows were knitted in concentration as she took it all in.

“Aerys was already mad by that point. He used to burn people alive in the throne room for pleasure. For the longest time, I couldn’t enter that bloody room without smelling it. Burning bodes consumed by green flames. The screams were awful.”

Shaking his head to rid the memory of it all, Jaime took a deep breath and continued. “When my father realized that Robert was prevailing, he acted as he always did. He allied himself with the winning side.”

Jaime’s face contorted in disgust. A bitterness rose in him. Everyone assumed that Jaime broke his oaths for his father, who conveniently appeared at the end of the war to aid Robert’s cause.

“My father showed up at the gates and I begged Aerys to surrender. It was to be a sack; of that I was certain. He refused. Instead, he called for the Pyromancer. He gave the orders to burn them all. To set the city ablaze with wildfire. It was all he could say after that. In his madness, he just sat there yelling ‘Burn them all. Burn them all.’ I killed the pyromancer first. Then I killed Aerys. Shoved my sword through his back.”

The memory of that day consumed Jaime as his hand shook slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he willed it away. Every part of him wished to go away inside at the memory of it, but he needed to stay. He wanted to stay with Brienne.

"Then Ned Stark came into the throne room and saw the king’s blood on my blade and cloak. He judged me guilty then and there. He wasn’t wrong, I suppose. I would do it again though.”

Brienne’s jaw was slack at his side. Her facial expression appeared so much like it did that day in the bath at Harrenhal. All Jaime wanted to do was hold her, but he looked away and reminded himself that he was still just the Kingslayer to her.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

With a resigned sigh, Jaime looked to his hands; one flesh and one gold. “It wouldn’t have mattered. They judged me for the act, not the reason. I would rather that than the alternative.”

Brienne’s confusion only deepened. “The alternative _should_ have been someone asking you why and you being honored for it. I would have asked you. I’ve always wanted to be a knight. To protect those who can’t protect themselves. I read about the deeds of great knights in my father’s library when I could sneak away from my Septa. I’ve never read a deed so great as that. I’m sorry they’ve judged you falsely. That I judged you falsely.”

The sincerity in Brienne’s voice surprised Jaime. She was always genuine, but she had never shared her thoughts on his telling of the tale when they were in the baths at Harrenhal.

_Mayhap if I hadn’t fainted, she might have. Things were so different then. We were enemies at that point._

“Thank you. For asking _why_ that is.”

Brienne considered the words and appraised him. “I didn’t ask you _then_?”

“In fairness, things were quite different between us. We were enemies of sorts. Well… you still thought me your enemy. I think I was already beginning to view you quite differently.”

_My cock certainly was. Thank the gods that rectified itself before I fainted._

The words hung heavy between them. Jaime could see the question forming before Brienne spoke again. “What do you mean? Why were we enemies?”

Jaime bit back a laugh at the question. “I was your captive. Lady Stark sent me under your charge to King’s Landing. It was to be a prisoner exchange; me for her daughters. I wasn’t the best captive. A bit of an idiot.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. “Oh. Why me? That seems an awful decision. Why not send you with the Northern army?”

“It’s probably fair to say that I was much safer with you than their entire army. I couldn’t be happier with her decision. It brought you to me.” Jaime took pause and glanced at Brienne.

A slight unease set into her features as he stared at her. Distantly, Jaime imagined he must have looked like a pining fool, but he could hardly help himself. All he could think of was kissing her.

Brienne stammered and looked away. She began to fidget nervously with the hem of her tunic.

“So, it worked then? I didn’t fail her?”

Before Jaime could answer, a loud knock came at the door. Jaime felt his spirits fall as Brienne stood to answer it. As the door opened, Jaime groaned inwardly at the sight of Selwyn. Surprisingly, Pod was with him.

Without awaiting her response, Selwyn moved into the room and glared at Jaime. Pod’s expression mirrored the larger man and Jaime could only imagine what was to come next.

“Father. What is it?”

“Well I came to see how you are. I was quite worried about you after that scene in the gardens.” Selwyn glared at Jaime as he spoke.

Swallowing thickly, Jaime looked to the floor. He was petrified of Selwyn’s intentions for visiting. There was so much that Jaime had yet to confess to Brienne, and he feared what truths Selwyn would expose next.

“I thought I might steal your friend here for a bit. Don’t worry, you won’t be alone. This young man has been quite worried about you and will keep you company until I return.”

Jaime looked up and saw Pod’s expression soften as he looked to Brienne. “Ser Brienne. I don’t imagine you remember me?”

The sorrow in Pod’s voice was obvious. Jaime felt for the young man; even if he was the subject of Pod’s ire.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t. Did we fight together?”

Pod’s face fell at the words, but he forced a smile and looked back at her. “My name is Pod. Podrick Payne. I am your squire, but… you mean much more to me than that.”

Jaime could feel Selwyn’s eyes on him. Walking to Brienne’s side, Jaime spoke quietly.

“Can I see you again or would you rather I stay away?”

With a small nod, Brienne met his eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you again.”

Jaime pressed his lips together and smiled; his eyes crinkling with glee. As Jaime stepped into the hallway, he immediately felt Selwyn’s burly hand at the back of his neck, pushing him forward.

“We are going to have some words, you and I.”

They walked a few doors down and turned into on open room on the left. Jaime gathered it was the room that Selwyn had been assigned. Similar to Brienne’s room, the furniture was sparse with naught but a bed and small table.

Offering Jaime a seat on the bed, Selwyn stood with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “While you were in Volantis, he told me of it all. The boy. The strange one.”

No additional description was necessary. Jaime knew that Selwyn meant Bran. The anger in Selwyn’s tone was evident as he glared at Jaime.

“He told me of Aerys, House Bolton, the dead, and _everything_ after. You may be a high-quality knight, but where it concerns women, you are dishonorable. You lay with your own sister and put babes on her. You treat my daughter like a brothel worker, only to abandon her with cruel words. My daughter deserves better than someone the likes of you. The title she earned is now called into question because of your behavior. They call her Kingslayer’s Whore because of _you_. I gather that you took her maidenhead without a second thought. Didn’t you?”

Jaime swallowed thickly and looked at the floor. “I regret dishonoring her. I should have wed her first. I wanted to wed her, but I made a mistake.”

“A mistake that cost Brienne her life! For a moon turn you lay with her and didn't once think to correct your mistake, did you? You got her with child! You’ve ruined any chance she could have at happiness. It was already difficult enough to find her a match _before_. Now I have a daughter known as the Kingslayer’s Whore. How is she to take a proper husband now?”

“Lord Selwyn, please. Let me prove myself. I love your daughter more than anything. I would do anything for her. I wish to marry her.”

The older lord appraised him as a heavy silence fell over the room.

“You would do anything for her?”

Nodding emphatically, Jaime met Selwyn’s eyes. “Yes. Anything.”

“Good. Then stay away from her. Podrick and I are taking her home to Tarth. The maester says that being around people and settings she is familiar with may help her. It’s the only chance she has to find happiness with someone who would treat her honorably.”

**Brienne**

The young man before her was quite talkative. He provided all manner of detail regarding their time together. It was exhausting listening to it all, but Brienne could tell that Pod was a kind soul. The fondness in his eyes was quite unexpected.

“I’m sorry. Am I overwhelming you? I’m just so happy that you’re alive. It’s horrible what happened to you. I’ll kill those men myself when they’re brought here.”

Brienne smiled appreciatively at the young man before her.

“To be honest, everything is overwhelming. I feel terribly that I can’t remember you. Hopefully in time. When I was speaking with Ser Jaime, I felt like I was remembering things.”

At her words, Pod sighed and looked away. “I’m happy to hear it, though I’m less than thrilled he is bothering you.”

“He isn’t bothering me. He has been very kind and helpful in it all. I don’t know how to describe it, but I just feel comfortable with him. I trust him.”

“Don’t!”

Pod’s outburst caught her by surprise. A slight awkwardness settled over them as Brienne clamped her mouth shut. With a huff, Pod spoke once more.

“I apologize. I didn't mean to yell. I’m just… he hurt you when he left to go south. I know his intentions were in the right place, but if it weren’t for his actions, you wouldn’t have died.”

“What do you mean?”

Pod shook his head and seemed to think better of whatever was forming at his lips. “It’s just that he should have been honest with you. He let you think that he was returning to his sister’s side to be with her. He made you believe it so that you wouldn’t follow him. It hurt you though; the things he said.”

Brienne struggled to see why she would be that hurt by it. She certainly wouldn’t appreciate the lies, but if his heart was in the right place, she failed to see how it was his fault.

_Strange. It isn’t as though we were in a relationship and he pretended to return to his sister. Gods. How absurd. Someone like him with someone like me._

Pod seemed eager to change the subject. He stood from his spot on the bed beside her and unbuckled the sword at his hip.

“I almost forgot! This is your sword, my lady. I mean… Ser Brienne. You gave it to me when you left for the south. Before you…”

The young man paused and looked away with a grimace. He forced a small as he spoke once more; his hand extending the sword towards her.

“It’s yours.”

As Brienne grabbed the hilt of the sword and Pod spoke, a shock went through her. A pair of green eyes pushed to the forefront of her mind. Then for the first time, she remembered something.

“Oathkeeper. I was meant to find Lady Sansa. Gods! Is she alright, Pod?”

Pod’s eyes went wide at the question. Something dangerous flashed across his face and it was the first time that Brienne saw the young man look anything but kind.

“I am angry at Ser Jaime, but for what Lady Sansa did to you… there is no forgiveness.”

Brienne reeled back as if slapped.

_No. Clearly, he is confused. I was sworn to Lady Catelyn. Jaime said that I was to oversee a prisoner exchange. Jon said that I safely returned Sansa to him at the Wall._

Without another word, Brienne moved into the hallway. Everything felt wrong. While she was pleased to remember something on her own, she felt a deep urge to find Sansa and keep her safe.

“I have to find her. I need to keep her safe.”

Pod ran into the hallway after Brienne. “No! You don’t understand. She doesn’t need to be found. She’s here.”

“She’s here!? I need to see her. I swore an oath to her mother. To Lady Catelyn. I promised Ser Jaime.”

At the commotion, Selwyn emerged from his room. “By the gods. What is going on? Brienne. Are you alright?”

Pod desperately called out to Selwyn. “My lord. I gave Ser Brienne the sword back and she remembered about her oath to Lady Stark. She thinks she needs to find Lady Sansa.”

At the information, Brienne heard Selwyn groan in exhaustion. He rushed to her side and grabbed her arm. “Brienne. No. There will be none of that now.”

Brienne couldn’t be bothered. She needed to find Jon and ask after Lady Sansa’s health. Her father tugged at her arm, but Brienne shook him off. The resolve she felt to find Sansa was overwhelming.

It felt like true purpose for the first time in days. Selwyn and Pod begged at her back, but Brienne needed to find Sansa.

_Pod said she was here. I need to know she is well. I need to honor the oath to Lady Catelyn and offer my sword before considering any offer from King Jon._

Turning towards the great hall, Brienne saw Jaime, Jon, and Arya outside speaking. At her approach, Jaime’s eyes went wide. His mouth hung open in question as he observed the men following Brienne and trying to calm her.

“Brienne? What’s wrong?”

Jaime stepped forward towards them; his eyes darting between the men at Brienne’s back.

“Oathkeeper. You gave me this sword, didn’t you? To find and protect Lady Sansa. To keep the oath to Lady Catelyn.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide before traveling down to the sword in her hand.

“Did Pod tell you that?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne continued staring at Jaime. “No. I remembered it. Pod returned the sword and something he said… it felt familiar. I remembered it.”

Glancing at Pod, Jaime spoke questioningly. “What did you say.”

With a shrug, Pod spoke uncertainly at Brienne’s side. “All I said was, ‘Its yours’. Then she charged out from the room.”

“It’s true then? Am I remembering it correctly?” Brienne’s eyes were as desperate as her tone.

_Gods. Don’t let me be going crazy. Please let this memory be real._

Jaime smiled as his eyes traveled from the sword in her hand to her eyes. “It will always be yours.”

It was as though a piece of a puzzle moved into place, and for the first time since she awoke, Brienne felt clarity. A memory stolen by death was restored and she smiled.

“I need to defend her. I need to know that she is alright. Pod says she is here.”


	13. Lannister and Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime tells Brienne why she must not seek out Sansa. Brienne struggles with the suggestion.

**Jaime**

Any happiness that Jaime felt at Brienne regaining a memory was quickly clouded by her insistence to see Sansa. It was evident that Selwyn and Pod had been unable to calm her or get a word in to explain what happened.

Brienne was frantic and desperate. Trying to put himself into Brienne’s position, Jaime could understand why. If all that she recalled from the last several years was the need to keep Sansa safe, it made sense that Brienne would care little for other information. She was stubborn. It was one of the many things that Jaime loved about her.

Jon and Arya had joined in the effort to refute Brienne’s request, but Jaime knew what to do. He had seen her in such a state before at Winterfell. More than once during the moon turn they were together, Brienne would awake from a nightmare.

He understood all too well. Jaime’s dreams were often visited by Aerys, Locke, and, more recently, the dead. In his dreams involving the dead, Jaime saw them overrun Brienne, but he couldn’t get to her in time.

Those nights were the worst. He awoke in a sweat, desperately clawing for Brienne. It took Brienne’s patient soothing to steady his breathing and chase away the nightmare.

Brienne had her share of torturous dreams too. She would wake in a panic, convinced that she needed to search the castle for wights. Insistent she needed to check on the Stark children and ensure there was no threat. Worrying over Jaime and assessing him for injury.

Jaime didn’t know what made him do it the first time, but he grabbed her hand and placed it against his chest, just over his heart. He rubbed soothing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb while pulled her close with his maimed arm.

In a similar motion to those dark nights up north, Jaime looped his right arm around Brienne’s waist and pulled her close. With his left hand, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s wrist and placed her hand over his chest while staring into her eyes. Rubbing soothing circles onto the back of her hand, Jaime spoke calmly. 

“Just breathe, Brienne. Calm down. Sansa is fine. Let us explain.”

As Brienne relaxed in his arms, Jaime smiled at her. “You remembered the sword, Brienne. That’s incredible. Lets go to the yards. I’ll tell you all about Sansa. I promise you, she is well. Yes?”

Nodding slowly, Brienne swallowed as the panic left her eyes. “Alright. Yes.”

The shocked looks on the faces of those around them did not escape Jaime; particularly Lord Selwyn. Jaime guided Brienne outside towards the yards. After a moment’s hesitation, Selwyn walked quickly behind them.

“Where are you taking her? I thought I told you…”

Jaime cut Selwyn off before he could finish. Glancing back at the older lord, Jaime spoke with the utmost sincerity. “To do what is best for her. And how were you faring back there?”

Jaime’s brow raised in challenge. A complaint formed at Selwyn’s lips, but he said nothing of it. Sensing Selwyn’s unease, Jaime spoke once more.

“I’m taking her to the yards. When we talk, I have a feeling she’s going to want to knock me into the dirt.”

With his hand at Brienne’s lower back, Jaime could feel her stiffen at the words. “Why would I do that?”

A knowing smirk spread across Jaime’s face. The affection in his eyes was impossible to hide. “You’re quite fond of knocking me around when you’re frustrated. Sansa is fine, but what you hear might _frustrate_ you.”

As they neared the yards, Jaime pulled Brienne towards the rock wall to sit down. The hour was growing late, and Jaime worried at overwhelming her with even more information before the day was out. It was likely Pod had already talked her ear off earlier.

Selwyn stood feet from them, looking on in worry at Brienne. The conversation with Selwyn earlier did not go well, and Jaime was petrified of watching Brienne sail away to Tarth.

Jaime sat beside Brienne and covertly placed his hand on the small of her back. He imagined that if Selwyn saw any physical affection or touch shared between them, Jaime would find himself handless.

“You asked earlier, but I didn’t get a chance to answer you. You did not fail Lady Catelyn. Despite my best efforts to make our journey difficult, you returned me to King’s Landing. Unfortunately, Lady Catelyn, her eldest son, and his bannermen were killed at the Twins. As I mentioned in Volantis, it was disgusting what happened. They were killed at Edmure Tully’s wedding to one of Walder Frey’s daughters.”

Brienne grimaced at the information and Jaime took a deep breath before continuing.

“When we arrived at King’s Landing, Arya Stark had gone missing and Sansa Stark was wed to my brother. It was purely for political reasons. Sansa was as much a prisoner in King’s Landing, as I was in Aerys’ Kingsguard. During Joffrey’s wedding when everyone was distracted by the king’s death, Sansa fled the city. I gave you that sword to find her and return her home. I sent Pod with you. At the time, Pod was Tyrion’s squire. Given Tyrion’s implication in Joffrey’s murder, Pod wasn’t safe.”

Jaime watched as Brienne nodded slowly, taking in the information. He hadn’t yet hit the heart of the matter, but it already felt overwhelming, even for him.

“You found Sansa despite the odds. You saved her from House Bolton, and you know what happened after. Were it not for you, Sansa wouldn’t be alive today. The Starks wouldn’t have reclaimed Winterfell, and there would have been much greater consequences beyond that. Do you understand?”

Brienne’s brows furrowed, but she nodded slowly. Taking that as a sign to continue, Jaime continued.

“When the North and Vale allied with Daenerys, they tried to treat with Cersei as we told you. Sansa sent you to King’s Landing to represent her. She refused to return to the city while my sister lived. Cersei lied to everyone. She agreed to send aid, but it was for show. Instead, she hired the Golden Company to destroy whichever army won.”

At the words, Brienne gasped. Even though Jaime honored his pledge to fight for the living, he felt guilt for Cersei’s behavior. They were twins, and there was a degree of responsibility that Jaime felt for Cersei’s actions.

“I tried to talk her into honoring the pledge, but she refused.” Jaime huffed a bitter laugh and looked to the sky. “She threatened to have me killed, but I left her side. I traveled north alone to honor the pledge. When I got there, Daenerys, Sansa, and Jon held a trial to determine my fate.”

“Your fate!? You honored your pledge!” Brienne was aghast at his side. The sight of her righteous indignation drew a huff of laughter from Jaime.

“Daenerys seemed to harbor some ill will towards me for having run her father through with my sword. House Stark, as you can imagine, was never much a fan of me or my House; particularly Sansa. She _hates_ all things Lannister.”

Jaime paused as he recalled the scene in the great hall at Winterfell. Tears stung the back of his eyes at the memory of Brienne standing before him and vouching for him. Were it not for Brienne, they would have taken his head on the spot.

“They were very likely going to kill me, but you stood before me. You vouched for me when the whole of the North wanted to see my head used as a projectile against the dead. I don’t think that I got to properly thank you for that.”

Glancing at Brienne, he saw her eyes widen slightly. “Of course I would vouch for you. You kept your oath to Lady Catelyn. You sacrificed your own name for the city. You’re a good man. An honorable man.”

Jaime grimaced slightly; his eyes darting to Selwyn who stood unimpressed a few feet away. Shaking his head, Jaime sighed.

“I’ve done horrible things, Brienne. They were within their right to demand my head.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed inquisitively. “Such as?”

_Gods. I didn’t want to tell her like this._

“I… I pushed Bran Stark from a window and crippled him.”

The shock on Brienne’s face was painful to see. Her hand came to her mouth as she stared at him. “Why would you do that? Is that why Sansa hates you?”

Shame consumed Jaime as he shook his head in denial. “I don’t believe Bran ever told his kin. I pushed him because he saw me and Cersei _together_ at Winterfell when King Robert was still alive. I hated myself for it; even in the moment. I just didn’t know another way to ensure my sister and the children kept their lives. It was wrong.”

When Brienne didn’t comment, Jaime continued.

“I think Sansa hates me because of what I _was_ to Cersei and all that my House did to hers. It seems that when you stood up for me, Sansa decided you were her enemy too, though she didn’t say so out loud. When I eventually left to go south, she confronted you and exiled you. She _hurt_ you. Badly. Her own kin had her arrested and placed in the cells for what she did to you.”

Brienne stood abruptly and began to pace before him. From the corner of his eye, Jaime could see Selwyn move to comfort her, but he held back when Brienne began to speak.

“I understand why she is upset. Surely it was all a misunderstanding. If I was her sworn sword, I _must_ have been loyal to her. Mayhap I just need to speak with her. It seems rather extreme to place her in the cells for merely exiling me. She was well within her right.”

“No! Brienne, you don’t understand. She exiled you to Essos and told the stablemaster to refuse you a horse. It’s why you’re so weak. You spent two moons walking towards White Harbor. No one gave you proper supplies or coin to ensure your safe arrival there. She spoke cruelly to you. She… she hurt you.”

Jaime closed his eyes to steady his rage. His hand shook at the memory of all that Bran had showed him.

Brienne stopped pacing; her eyes moving to Jaime. “I’ll have that spar now.”

**Brienne**

Brienne moved quietly through the darkened corridors leading towards the cells. Hours had passed since she sparred Jaime and took supper with her father. The day had been exhausting and while Brienne’s body longed for little more than sleep, her mind would not let her take rest.

As she approached the cells, Brienne offered a small smile at the guards. “I’m here to see Lady Sansa.”

The men glanced at one another uneasily. One of the men, a short brunette with a missing tooth and brown eyes, looked at her uneasily. “We was told by Ser Bronn not to let anyone in.”

“Yes, well I’ll only be a bit. I understand that I’m the reason for the lady’s imprisonment. I only mean to check on her and ensure she is being well-fed. I’ll be back out momentarily. You have my word.”

The second guard shrugged. “Ser Brienne doesn’t lie. I trust her. She commanded me against the dead.”

_I was his commander? Gods, I feel terrible for not remembering him._

With a warm smile, Brienne nodded as the men let her into the cells. “She’s down on the right in the open cell. They’ve got her chained to the wall.”

_Gods. How awful. I need to fix this._

“Thank you both. I appreciate it.”

Entering the cells, Brienne grabbed a torch off the wall. She moved quickly towards the area described and it was not long before she saw a small body curled on the floor. Red hair spilled out onto the ground as Sansa’s arm propped up her head.

“My lady?”

At Brienne’s voice, the woman sat upright and squinted into the darkness. Sansa brought up an arm as her eyes adjusted to the light from the torch.

“Brienne?”

A wave of relief washed over Brienne. With a smile stretching across her face, Brienne moved quickly to Sansa’s side.

“My lady. Are you alright? I’m so sorry for all of this.”

At Brienne’s approach, Sansa recoiled as if struck.

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

The tone in Sansa’s voice surprised Brienne. She seemed more irritated than relieved.

“I was, my lady. King Jon and Ser Jaime brought me to a red priestess. Quite a lot of trouble really. Here, I’ve brought you some food.”

Reaching into her pocket, Brienne produced the portion of her meal that she had secretly saved for Sansa. Her own stomach growled at the sight of it. Brienne had wished to eat more, but she feared that Sansa was not being nourished properly in the cells.

Grabbing the food from Brienne’s hand, Sansa threw it into the darkness.

“You’ll not poison me! I’m no fool.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly as shock washed over her. “My lady, I would never poison you. I was worried that they are not feeding you adequately here.”

“Please. Why would you care?”

The young woman leaned back against the cell wall. Brienne appraised the space. A horrid smell wafted through the area, and mice could be heard scurrying about in the darkness.

“I’m your sworn sword. It is my duty to protect you.”

A bitter laugh escaped Sansa’s lips. “Please. Spare me. You’re the reason that I’m stuck in here.”

“Yes, I know. I’m terribly sorry for it. I’m going to ask King Jon to release you. Ser Jaime told me of it. I understand your reason for distrusting me, but I would never betray you. I swear that I am loyal to you and no other.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and huffed.

“Ser Jaime told you of it? Gods. How many lifetimes do you intend to play the fool? Let me guess, now that his sister is dead, he means to make you his whore again?”

Brienne flinched at the words. Her eyes went wide. “My lady, no! Ser Jaime would never do that, and he would have very little desire to lay with someone such as me. He is my friend.”

Sansa’s eyes narrowed in response. Her head tilted slightly as she seemed to consider Brienne.

“Your friend? What are you… Brienne… what is Ser Jaime to you?”

“My friend, my lady. That is all. He kept his oath to your mother and sent me to find you. He’s a good man. He only meant to offer aid. Mayhap if you knew him better. He isn’t like his sister. Admittedly, I don’t much remember him, but he has treated me honorably since they brought me back. I’m told by others that his deeds were well-intended if not poorly executed.”

The hint of a smile tugged at Sansa’s lips. In Brienne’s worry for the young woman, she hadn’t noticed it. “You don’t remember anything?”

“No, my lady. The only thing I recall is being sent to find you. I’ll see you home safely.”

Sansa leaned forward and her eyes shone with fear.

“Listen to me, Brienne. He did this once before. He tried to turn us on one another. You were hopelessly in love with him, but he rejected you at Winterfell. He wanted to marry me, but I didn’t want to hurt you, so I refused him. He tried to kill me for it, but my guards stopped him. Then he fled south to return to his sister. You mustn’t tell him this or I fear he’ll try to kill me again. This time, they won’t stop him. He has poisoned my own family against me. I’ve done no wrong, Brienne. Please! Help me! You have to get me out. I fear the only way is to be rid of him.”

Brienne felt her heart sink at the words.

_I loved him? Is that why I find such comfort in him? Am I truly so pathetic to think someone such as him could have loved me? Gods. He tried to harm Sansa? It seems so out of character... though how would I truly know?_

Taking a deep breath, Brienne looked at Sansa and nodded. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here safely, my lady. I’m so sorry for all of this.”

Sansa nodded and leaned back as Brienne stood to leave. The walk back to her room felt more like a walk across the entirety of Westeros. Her feet dragged as Brienne reprimanded herself for not remembering it all. She couldn’t shake the feeling though that something was off, however.

_He couldn’t reject me if I never admitted to my love. Why would I confess my love for him? I know it could never be returned. I never confessed my love for Renly for the same reason. That would be mortifying. A fate worse than death. Why would I do so for Ser Jaime?_

Unable to sleep, Brienne sought out Jaime.


	14. Cherished and Unlovable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes to speak with Jaime about what happened in Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's section has some NSFW

**Brienne**

The hour was late, but Brienne couldn’t rest until she heard the truth of Winterfell from Jaime. Earlier that evening, Jaime had informed Brienne which room he was assigned in the event she needed him for anything.

Not long after she had knocked, the door to Jaime’s room creaked open. Tired eyes met hers, as Jaime stood shirtless and bathed in firelight.

His breeches hung loosely at his hips and his hair stuck out slightly at the sides. His frame was muscular and his skin golden. Brienne averted her eyes and stammered an apology.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t intend to wake you. I can come back in the…”

Before she could finish, Jaime was pulling her into the room. He shut the door behind her and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“You didn’t wake me. It’s fine.”

Brienne raised an unimpressed brow at the lie. With a slight grimace, Jaime shrugged.

“Sorry. I said no lies. You can come anytime you need. I don’t mind.”

Brienne’s eyes darted around the room. The warmth of the fireplace added more color to her cheeks which had already pinked when her eyes drank in Jaime’s body. She waited for him to dress more appropriately, but instead he stood close at her side and looked to her expectantly.

“I’m very sorry, but I couldn’t sleep. I needed to ask you something. Please, be honest with me. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

Jaime nodded in wordless agreement as Brienne began to fidget.

“When you came to Winterfell, did I…” Brienne paused and cleared her throat. She could feel her blush deepening as Jaime stared at her. His scent was overwhelming and his proximity intoxicating. It was strange to have her body react so strongly to him.

“…did I do or say something that suggested I wanted something _more_ than friendship from you?”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words before they widened in shock. “No. Why? Did you remember something?”

It felt as though a weight was lifted from Brienne’s chest. The thought of having confessed her love to someone as untouchable as Jaime Lannister seemed both mortifying and unimaginable.

“No. Not at all. Sorry for having disturbed you, Ser Jaime. I’ll let you get back to sleep.” A small smile tugged at Brienne’s lips, but when she glanced at Jaime, she was surprised to see his face fall.

_Did he lie again? Is he only trying to spare my pride?_

“Why did you think that, Brienne?”

Afraid to reveal she had visited Sansa, Brienne told Jaime what Sansa said without implicating her. Jaime’s eyes went wide, and he began to pace wildly.

“Who would tell you such a thing!? That is a terrible lie, Brienne. I have as much desire to marry Sansa as I have to see Aerys resurrected. In truth, I would love to kill Sansa, but only because of what she has done to you. I never laid a hand on her while at Winterfell.”

Brienne startled at Jaime’s vehemence. She shook her head and stammered. “It’s nothing… I just heard it in passing.”

Jaime’s tone was vexed when he spoke once more. “Who said it, Brienne? That doesn’t make any sense. Please. I need to know who is lying to you. You could be in danger again.”

Brienne considered his words, but she feared betraying Sansa. If her instinct was wrong and Jaime was again lying to her, it could cost Sansa her life. It was too much to handle and Brienne felt that no matter what she did, she was failing someone.

The inability to remember was frustrating and Brienne began to panic slightly. Stepping backwards towards the door, Brienne mumbled an apology before Jaime grabbed her wrist.

“Brienne, please. I need to know who said that. I can’t lose you again.”

There was a raw pain in his eyes that struck Brienne. She considered why he would go through the trouble of seeing her resurrected if Sansa’s story was true.

_If I was dead, wouldn’t that clear the path to Sansa? Not that I would have stood in their way regardless. I would have wanted them to be happy, no matter how much it hurt._

“I’m sorry. I’m just very confused. Everyone keeps telling me different things. Mayhap it is best that I leave. My presence only seems to cause more problems.”

Brienne’s mind ran wild. The inability to remember such a significant portion of her life was wearing on Brienne. As the weight of the day began to press on her, Brienne’s heart raced. It felt as though the walls were closing in.

_Why can’t I remember? What is wrong with me?_

Pushing the palm of her hand against her forehead, Brienne tried to steady herself. The room began to spin as the color drained from her face.

Warm arms guided Brienne to the bed and lowered her. Jaime pushed her shoulders back gently and Brienne felt the bed depress at her side. Jaime’s body pressed close at her hip as he stared down at her face.

“I don’t mean to upset you. Just lay down and take a deep breath. It’s been a long day. You look faint.”

Brienne tried to sit upright, but Jaime stopped her. “Just wait a moment. Always so stubborn. Can I get you water?”

Shaking her head in refute, Jaime’s hand ran through her hair. His proximity was not helping Brienne’s plight. It was all so confusing. His touch both soothed and frightened her. It felt easier when men’s repulsion was apparent. Kind touch felt more torturous. A reminder of what she could never have.

_Did I mistake his kindness as something more at Winterfell? Why would Sansa accuse me of being hopelessly in love with him? How foolish had I behaved?_

Before Brienne could try to get up again, Jaime sighed and looked away.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable, but please tell the king.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed as she considered the words. While she had little reason to trust Jaime more than anyone else, Brienne couldn’t help but believe him sincere. With a slight nod of her head, Brienne agreed.

_I suppose the guards will have alerted King Jon anyway._

At the thought, Brienne reprimanded herself for not having been more careful in visiting Sansa. She worried at how Jon might react to Sansa’s accusations. Glancing once more at Jaime, Brienne took a leap of faith in trusting him.

“Please don’t tell anyone, but I visited Sansa. I’m afraid the guards will tell King Jon and I don’t know what to say if he confronts me. I don’t want harm to befall Sansa.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide at the words. “She told you that lie, didn’t she?”

The guilt was writ across Brienne’s face as she met his eyes. “I had to see her.”

“She hurt you, Brienne! I didn’t lie to you. Please, in the morning will you speak with Bran? Even Arya or Jon if you prefer. I don’t want you thinking that I’ve lied about what she did.”

While Brienne believed Jaime, it would be helpful to get different perspectives or insights. 

“Yes. I’ll speak with them.”

Jaime smiled and lifted his left hand to her temple; his thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth. The touch was relaxing, and Brienne felt her eyes grow heavy on account of the hour and stress of the day. Without intending to, Brienne fell asleep with Jaime seated on the bed facing her.

**Jaime**

The flames in the fireplace had burned to only embers. After little sleep in two days, Jaime felt his body slipping into unconsciousness. He squeezed into the bed beside Brienne and held her close.

With his body pressed against Brienne, the room felt warmer than it had with the fire burning bright. Jaime tried desperately to stay awake. The only thing he feared more than losing Brienne again, was seeing her branded the Kingslayer’s Whore again.

Jaime reconciled that he would rouse Brienne before first light and escort her back to her room. First, he wanted her to rest. The amount of information everyone threw at her over the course of the day was astounding.

Further, conflicting perspectives and chopped information were not aiding her mental health. Jaime was beginning to worry for Brienne. When she nearly fainted, he panicked and wondered if she should see Sam in the morning.

As Jaime faded in and out of consciousness, his hand dropped from Brienne’s head to her shoulder. He began to drift between dream and reality. When a jolt of wakefulness gripped him, Jaime rubbed at Brienne’s shoulder with his thumb. It was a desperate bid to offer her comfort, even if in sleep, and to keep himself awake.

Again, Jaime nodded off; his hand dragged across to Brienne’s chest as he shifted closer. The pad of his thumb traced over her breast and elicited a small moan from Brienne.

Even dazed, Jaime’s cock hardened at the familiar sound. On instinct, Jaime’s mouth moved to Brienne’s jaw and placed a delicate kiss as he mumbled sleepily. “Brienne.”

Brienne shifted in sleep to face Jaime. Her hand reached out to grip his stump. It was something she often did in slumber at Winterfell. An unconscious tenderness that Jaime missed. Jaime found himself slipping back into visions of their bed at Winterfell.

In his semiconscious state, Jaime was covered in furs with the North’s wintery chill blowing against the window. As if on memory alone, his hand traveled to Brienne’s face and cupped her cheek. When his lips met hers, Brienne kissed him back as her grip on his stump tightened. She mumbled absently.

“Jaime… the fire. Have to… keep the fire going… in the north.”

It had been their routine at Winterfell. Brienne would ramble about the fire needing tending while Jaime tried to ignite a fire of a different sort. Everything was so familiar. Just another evening huddled close in the dreary North.

Jaime’s hand trailed down Brienne’s side and up her shirt. He pawed at her breast while thumbing across her nipple. As Brienne hissed slightly, her hand moved to his breeches. His cock was already hard with want and begging for touch.

From a moon of laying together, Brienne’s experienced hand gripped Jaime’s cock just the way he liked. His hand traveled from her breast and moved to the laces of her breeches. Lost in a dream of their room at Winterfell, Jaime desperately shoved the offending material out of the way.

Pushing Brienne to her back, Jaime rolled on top of her; his cock at Brienne’s entrance as their lips searched for each other in the dark. As Jaime pushed into her with a sigh and began moving slowly, Brienne arched her back into him.

The familiar touch of Brienne’s hands urged Jaime on. Looping his right arm under her leg, he pushed deeper until he hit _that_ spot which always sent Brienne spiraling. Moving at a more frenzied pace, Jaime felt his release building. Everything around him began to feel more real.

Brienne moaned his name as her hips tilted up and her hands pulled him impossibly closer. As her walls began to tighten, Jaime felt his release rapidly approaching. Brienne tipped her chin up and exposed the length of her neck.

All Jaime could see was Winterfell and Brienne. The scent in the air, the feel of her body in the dark, and the sound of her voice. Jaime buried his face into the pale expanse of her neck, as Brienne’s voice called out to him.

“Jaime.”

_Gods she feels so good. I don’t want to leave. I won’t go back south. I want to stay._

His breath was warm and shallow against her skin, and Jaime spilled deep within Brienne as she stilled under him. Nibbling at the flesh of her neck, Jaime’s eyes registered the bruising from the noose. When Brienne’s voice next called out to him; the tone was different.

“Jaime?”

The panic in Brienne’s voice matched his own dawning realization. Jaime froze as Winterfell faded away and his room at the Keep came into view. Fear gripped Jaime as he felt Brienne shaking underneath him. Slowly pulling back his head, Jaime observed Brienne’s panicked eyes.

_Oh fuck. What have I done?_

Jaime glanced down to where their bodies were still joined. He could feel his cock softening from release inside Brienne as he slowly pulled out. Jaime’s mouth gaped as he looked back into Brienne’s eyes. Tears were forming as she tried to desperately scramble off the bed.

“Brienne. Oh gods. I’m so sorry. I… I was somewhere else. I swear it.”

“Yes, of course. You likely thought me someone else. I need to leave. Oh gods. What have I done?”

With shaking hands, Brienne grabbed her clothing and covered herself. Jaime quickly pulled up his smallclothes and breeches as he watched Brienne frantically attempt to lace her own. Stilling her hands, Jaime desperately tried to meet her eyes.

“No! Brienne, please. I meant that I was somewhere else _with you_. I thought we were back at Winterfell in our room. It was all so confusing… gods. I’m so sorry.”

The words seemed to startle Brienne more than what had just happened. A strange expression flashed across her face before she shook her head. “No. No. It was a dream. Likely brought on by Sansa’s lie. I’m a maid. I… was maid. Gods. I can’t believe that happened.”

_Was she just with me at Winterfell too? Was she remembering?_

Jaime’s face fell as he met her frightened eyes. Shaking his head slowly, Jaime tried to cup her cheek, but Brienne flinched.

“Brienne. We were _together_ at Winterfell. That’s why Sansa thought you betrayed her.”

Silent tears fell from Brienne’s face. “I’m not… we weren’t. I’m not wed. Oh gods. Were we wed?”

Guilt and shame touched Jaime’s features as he reached for Brienne. 

“I wanted to. I swear it, Brienne. Everything was so _complicated_. Gods, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. Not like this.”

Brienne’s face fell as she tried once more to lace her breeches. Bitterness laced her tone as she refused to meet his eyes. “Was it a bet then? A jape? Or was I just your whore to pass time with?”

“No! Brienne, please. Just look at me. You are _not_ a whore.”

Again, Jaime reached out for Brienne, but she stepped back. Her cheeks were wet with tears as she tried to move rapidly towards the door. Desperation drove Jaime forward to beat her there. With his back pressed to the door and blocking Brienne’s path, Jaime felt the words tumble from his lips.

“I went to Winterfell because I love you. I returned south because I love you. I killed Cersei because I love you. And I took you to Volantis because I love you still. I will never stop loving you.”

The words hung heavy between them as Brienne’s eyes went wide. He watched as she swallowed a forming reply and looked away. When she collected herself and spoke once more, her voice was heavy with pain.

“I said no more lies. You promised.”

Pushing off the door, Jaime grabbed her face between his hand and stump. His eyes were desperate as he spoke urgently.

“I would never lie about this! Ask anyone, please. I’m told that I was quite pathetic about it. It wasn’t you who was hopelessly in love. It was me.”

Brienne’s face contorted in anguish. “You can’t love me. I’m not lovable. It’s the only thing that I know for certain.”

“That’s not true, but it’s my fault you think that. I never told you at Winterfell how much I love you. You died thinking yourself unlovable because of my failure; not your own. Please, Brienne. You have to believe me.”

Shaking her head, Brienne removed his hand and wrist from her face.

“I can’t. You can’t try to convince me of what I already know as fact. You could no sooner convince me that I’m short of stature or the sky is a shade other than blue.”

Jaime realized it then. Kinvara’s words came back to him.

_“You may love her, and she may yet come to find her love for you once more. You are twin flames after all. Even still, that love will never be enough when she can’t accept that she is lovable. When she can’t love herself.”_

Jaime felt his body sag as Brienne pushed passed him to the door. Before she could turn the handle, Jaime put his flesh hand on the door and leaned his weight against it.

“I wouldn’t refute your tall stature or the color of the sky because those _are_ facts. They do not change based on opinion. But love is personal. It’s subjective. Because I failed you, you don’t see how much I love you. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I’m sorry you found out like this, but I will not stop loving you. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to believe me. I’ll never lay with or cloak another.”

Brienne’s tears spilled faster down her cheeks as she refused to meet Jaime’s eyes.

“Please. Let me go.”

Removing his hand from the door, Jaime sighed and whispered as she left. “I can’t.”


	15. Near and Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from the night before. Brienne prepares to leave and Jaime scrambles to get her to stay.

**Brienne**

Brienne stood outside Pod’s door and knocked lightly. After fleeing Jaime’s room, Brienne spent hours sobbing into her pillow before the sun came up. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from tears, but Brienne needed to speak with someone, anyone, who could help her understand what happened at Winterfell.

When the door opened, the young man with kind eyes gasped at the sight of her. “Ser Brienne! Gods, are you alright? Come in.”

Pod guided her into the room as he shut the door behind Brienne. Aside from her own, the room was the tidiest that Brienne had ever seen. She wondered how much of Pod’s meticulous nature was reflective of her badgering over the years in which they were acquainted. She had a tendency to be a bit anal where it concerned cleanliness.

Turning to face Pod, Brienne took a steadying breath. “I am in desperate need of some truths that may be difficult for you to answer, but I need help.”

Nodding emphatically, Pod offered Brienne a seat on the bed. Remembering last night’s events, Brienne grimaced and opted to stand.

“At Winterfell, was I _with_ Ser Jaime?”

Pod sighed and rubbed a hand aggressively over his face. Looking to the window, he spoke quietly. “Yes.”

Shame washed over Brienne. When the night prior she shook the vestiges of sleep to find Jaime inside her, Brienne felt her world shatter. She thought herself a dishonored maid, but the reality was worse.

_I was his whore. An unwed noblewoman laying with a man who had, by his own admission, never offered words of love. Gods. How desperate I must have been._

Brienne’s chin quivered as understanding washed over her. “Thank you, Podrick. Gods, you must think so little of me. I’m so embarrassed at my whorish behavior. Please, don’t tell my father. He’ll never forgive me.”

Desperation shone in Brienne’s eyes as she looked to Pod. When she saw Pod wince, Brienne’s stomach dropped.

_Oh gods. He knows._

“I think I’ll take that seat.”

Brienne stumbled backwards to the bed and buried her face in her hands. The young man crouched before her and grabbed her wrists. His voice was filled with sorrow.

“Your behavior was not whorish. You could never be that. You are the most honorable woman I have ever met. You were a maid before Ser Jaime. Even at Winterfell, you were the picture of propriety.”

Brienne snorted as she glanced at Pod through her lashes.

“The picture of propriety. I was Ser Jaime’s whore, Pod. I willingly laid with a man despite no words of love nor commitment.”

“No! You loved one another. I’ve never seen any man look at a woman the way Ser Jaime looks at you.”

There was an earnestness to Pod’s voice that touched Brienne. Even in her failure, Pod tried to justify her behavior. With a small smile, Brienne reached out and squeezed Pod’s shoulder.

“You’re a good friend. Please, don’t try to justify what I did. I know my love was unrequited.”

Pod grimaced as his head turned away. “Please don’t make me defend him. Gods…”

With a heavy sigh, Pod returned his attention to Brienne. “I don’t know if I’ll truly forgive what he did, but Ser Jaime loved you then as he does now. The day we met, I felt there was something between you both, but I couldn’t name it. Then when we saw him at Riverrun, and I knew there was something more. When we rowed down river from the castle, I thought he might jump in and swim after you.”

_Riverrun? What?_

Pod huffed a small laugh before meeting Brienne’s eyes.

“Then at Winterfell, I knew. Everyone knew who cared to look. It was written all over his face. I saw it when he asked to serve under your command. When he knighted you. When he fought at your side against the dead, refusing to leave you for even a moment. You both seemed so happy… and then he left. He lied to you about why he left so that you wouldn’t follow, and it broke your heart. I hated him. I wished the worst on him, and I’m sorry for it.”

Pod wrung his hands in frustration as he stood. A question formed that he seemed to struggle giving voice to.

Taking pause to consider Pod’s words, a deep unease set in Brienne. “Does everyone know that I was _with_ Ser Jaime? Does everyone know me as little more than his whore?”

Pod’s eyes fell and Brienne wished she hadn’t asked. Ignorance was far more blissful than this truth.

“People knew you were together. Only those soldiers and Lady Sansa thought you his… I won’t even say it because you’re not! The men respect you. I respect you. King Jon respects. He respects you enough to make you an offer as Lady Commander of his Kingsguard. He told me and your father of it.”

_Gods. This is horrible. What a jape I must be to everyone. The ugly woman who fell into bed with one of the most handsome men in Westeros. What a fool I was._

Pod’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Did you remember it then? Your time with him?”

Brienne felt her face heat at the question. Memories from the night prior pushed to the forefront of her mind. It had seemed a most vivid dream.

It was cold and she was covered in furs while lying beside someone. The fire had gone out, and she reprimanded herself for it. A fervent thought had entered her mind as her bed companion stirred.

_I have to keep the fire going. It’s the first thing I learned in the North._

She muttered it more to herself than the man beside her. Jaime. He felt so familiar in the dream. It felt the most natural thing in the world to be sleeping at his side.

In her dream when he kissed her, she didn’t startle. Strangely, she expected it. It felt as though it had happened innumerable times before. The act felt as familiar as polishing her steel or putting on armor.

As he moved over her and their bodies became one, Brienne felt the dream fading away. Her senses were slowly coming back to her as she kept mumbling his name and reaching for him.

It was frightening at first; the sensation of Jaime falling away, but then he was there once more. The room they were in was different, but the feeling of their bodies joined was the same.

Brienne had realized it then. She was awake and he was _inside_ her. For a moment, she stilled below him as she realized what they were doing.

Brienne knew she should say something, but it felt achingly good. Her body wasn’t in pain as she expected the loss of her maidenhead should feel. It felt right somehow; familiar. Then fear took over and Jaime seemed to sense it. Brienne called out to him questioningly.

_“Jaime?”_

When their eyes met, she saw panic on his face. It hurt to think back on. For Brienne, it seemed the face of regret and lack of awareness for _who_ had been in his bed. She was embarrassed and afraid.

Septa Roelle had stressed that the only value Brienne would bring a match was her maidenhead and Evenfall. Now she was no longer a maid. If her father found out, she would no longer have Evenfall.

It seemed more likely that she gave her maidenhead to a man half-awake and envisioning the love of his life who was certainly not her.

Looking at Pod now, Brienne shook her head in refute. “No, I didn’t remember it. Well… I’m not certain. I think I had a dream implying as much. He admitted it to me. The physical part of our friendship that is.”

Pod snorted and shook his head. “My lady. Ser. That is a great deal more than friendship. I should hope to not be doing _that_ with those I consider a friend. And if I may, as a man, certain things can’t quite happen with uh… stuff… if it is _only_ friendship that is felt.”

_Oh gods. My squire is giving me the talk. This day can’t possibly get any worse._

“Right. Thank you, Pod. I get it. May I ask you one other thing?”

Pod looked as relieved as Brienne felt for the change in subject. Nodding eagerly at Brienne, Pod stood to full height and awaited Brienne’s question to come.

The question that Brienne was about to ask was one she was confident she already had the answer to, but she wanted to hear it from someone else. Someone admittedly not pleased with Jaime.

“Did Ser Jaime try to kill Lady Sansa while we were at Winterfell?”

At the question, Pod’s eyes went wide.

“No! Why would you think that? I’m certain Lady Sansa was daydreaming of ways to kill _him_ , but nothing of the sort happened like that.”

With an appreciative nod, Brienne stood from the bed. “I thought as much. I just wanted to be certain.”

_Clearly something has broken irreparably with Sansa. She lied to me. What if she has done worse than lie? Everyone seems to think she has wronged me in the most unforgiveable way._

As Brienne moved towards the door, Pod called out to her. “Are you going to Tarth as your father said or will you stay now that you know about Ser Jaime?”

Brienne glanced back at Pod and shrugged.

“It seems I’ve done nothing but make terrible decisions on my own. My behavior was selfish. Doing as my father asks and going to Tarth seems the one thing I can do to atone for my sins. There is nothing for me here.”

As Brienne left the room, she heard Pod call out to her. “There is love.”

Shaking her head, Brienne pitied the boy’s naivety. He was a friend and willing to overlook what she was. It was likely Ser Jaime had done the same and was willing to temporarily settle for the likes of her. The only thing that Brienne knew for certain was that she was not lovable. Anything speaking to the contrary was the lie.

The morning was a blur as Brienne broke her fast with Selwyn. Their ship would depart at midday, and Brienne committed to being on it. Brienne found Jon to inform him of her inability to accept his offer for the role of Lady Commander, but the king kindly refused her answer.

_“Go home and recover. You’ve been through a lot. Your father intends to return when your murderers are brought to the city. If you join him, I would ask for your answer then. According to Bran, our men are nearly upon them. They should arrive in King’s Landing for trial in just over a moon turn. I will await your answer then.”_

With a sigh, Brienne agreed. Now as she made her way towards the courtyard to leave for the port, Brienne heard someone call out to her.

“Ser Brienne.”

The title still sounded strange and Brienne almost didn’t reply. Turning slightly, she observed a young man in a wheelchair sitting passively by a side door.

“A moment of your time?”

With a slight shrug, Brienne walked towards the young man. Brienne imagined him to be Lord Bran based on other’s description of him. The sight of his broken body reminded Brienne of the crimes Jaime committed against the young man.

_Does he hate me for having been with the man who crippled him?_

At her approach, Bran offered a small smile.

“I’m sorry that I’m unable to show you everything. I can only show those close to death or simple. Their minds are more receptive to my intervention. You are neither.”

The words struck Brienne as odd. With furrowed brows, she nodded slowly.

“Um… that’s quite alright. You must be Lord Bran, correct?”

“Yes, though I’m more three-eyed-raven than Bran.”

_What? Gods. How hard did Ser Jaime push him?_

“I’m not entirely clear what that means, but I’m certain its lovely for you.”

Bran chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Kinvara asked you a question before you left Volantis. Do you recall it?”

Brienne thought back on the parting question from Kinvara.

_“Ser Brienne. Did you think it possible that you could be raised from the dead?” After Brienne refuted the thought, Kinvara continued “Then perhaps it is not impossible that you can be loved. Be open in this life. I can assure you that it won’t be the same as the last.”_

With a slight nod to Bran, Brienne’s tone was more a question than answer. “Yes.”

“Good. It seems you’ve forgotten the advice. She loved you, you know.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed slightly at the words. The ‘she’ hung heavy between them before Bran spoke once more.

“Your mother. She sang to you. I imagine that’s why you enjoyed the singers your father brought to court at Evenfall. He noticed it was the only time you smiled, so he always kept a stream of musicians visiting.”

The memory of her mother was one that Brienne didn’t recall from _before_. She had been wondering if she didn’t recall her before dying or if it was another memory lost to her now.

“I don’t remember her, though I don’t think I remembered her before I died.”

Bran shrugged slightly. “Apparently not if you thought yourself unloved. She wasn’t the only one of course. Your father loves you deeply even if he as erred greatly. Quite a few people love you, but there is only one romantic love in your life. Your twin flame. Did you know that Ser Jaime has only laid with two women his entire life?”

Brienne felt her face flame. She glanced around the hallway praying to the gods that no one was close enough to hear Bran’s comment.

With a slight shrug, Brienne shook her head. “No.”

“He has had ample opportunity to lay with others. The gods afforded physical beauty to someone who would never use it for his own gain or pleasure. Quite obnoxious really. I don’t see why they couldn’t spare a little beauty to the rest of us. Ser Jaime rejects the advances of women as hurriedly as a brothel worker rejects a patron without coin. Men like Bronn would kill to have a face such as Jaime’s. A face that could bring him a new woman to bed every night. Ser Jaime only wants for one. You.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide as she stammered. “Well he likely just feels that way now. He has been through a lot. I’m certain with time, he will come to love another. Not a false love born out of loneliness or some temporary madness.”

A small smirk tugged at the young man’s lips. “You describe his first love. What he found with you is true love. He will never love another as he loves you. He’s going to give it all up for you.”

Confusion was heavy in Brienne’s tone as she appraised Bran and took a tentative step towards him. “Give what up for me?”

“Himself.”

**Jaime**

Jaime banged on Tyrion’s door and huffed impatiently. He was in desperate need of advice and no one could offer it like his little brother. When Tyrion didn’t answer quickly enough, Jaime knocked more aggressively.

A tired voice called out from the other side of the door. “Gods. Enough. I hear you.”

The sound of shuffling of feet wafted into the hallway from under the door. With a loud creak, the door opened to reveal a disheveled looking Tyrion. Extending his arm to indicate welcome entry, Tyrion spoke slowly as though it pained him.

“Ah, brother. What can I…”

Jaime pushed passed Tyrion and into the room. With a small laugh, Tyrion finished his sentence.

“… do for you. Please, come in.”

Rounding on Tyrion, Jaime could barely contain the panic in his voice. “I fucked up and I need your help.”

“Again? Seven hells, Jaime. What more could you have done? I’m starting to think you do this for sport.”

Urging Tyrion to shut the door, Jaime sat dramatically on the edge of Tyrion’s bed. The room was a mess. Books were scattered throughout, clothes littered the floor, and an empty jug of wine sat perched on the table.

Tyrion shuffled to the table and sighed in disappointment at the empty wine jug. Grumbling to himself, Tyrion reached for an untouched glass of water nearby.

Jaime cleared his throat and braced himself for the reprimand to come. “I… I accidentally had sex with Brienne.”

Spluttering on his water, Tyrion gripped the table and reached for his throat. He tried to respond as he choked and struggled to breath properly. “You… what!? How the… fuck…”

Tyrion stopped to cough and steady his breathing as he turned in horror to Jaime. “How the fuck do you accidentally have sex with someone!? Did you trip and while descending, disrobe one another thus allowing your cock to _accidentally_ fall into her!?”

Grimacing at the words, Jaime rubbed his neck and looked away. He explained what had happened including Brienne’s secretive visit with Sansa. When he told Tyrion all of it, he glanced at his brother.

“I swear, it was as though we were in Winterfell. I was half-awake and everything just felt like we never left. I think she even bitched at me about tending the fire. It was all a fog. An incredible feeling fog, but a fog nonetheless.”

Tyrion groaned in frustration and buried his face in his hands. “So, she woke up to find her maidenhead being taken for a second time by the same man who _still_ had yet to offer words of love. Great strategy. Why the fuck would you even have her in your bed!? You could have ensured she was no longer faint, and then walked her politely back to her room. By politely, I mean _not_ with your cock inside her.”

“I know! Alright! This isn’t helping. Tyrion, I can’t lose her. Please. Help me figure this out. I just… she looked so lost and unwell. I didn’t intend to fall asleep beside her. I had barely slept in two days! This has all been rather overwhelming.”

With a loud snort, Tyrion took a long sip of his water before glaring at Jaime. “Yes, well imagine how she feels! She thought herself a maid and woke up to you rutting away on top of her!”

A momentary silence fell over them as Tyrion looked to the window. Jaime could see Tyrion’s mind fast at work, and Jaime prayed to the Seven that his little brother had an idea for his plight.

“We need Bran. Someone objective that can validate your confession of love. Do you think he can be objective? You did push him from a window after all. Unfortunately, I don’t know how much time we’ll have.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. “Time? What do you mean?”

With a hum, Tyrion moved to Jaime and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “Her father plans to leave for Tarth today. I imagine she’ll be departing with him.”

_No. She can’t leave now. Not like this._

Jaime knew that he had to be honest with Brienne about one more thing before she left. It was likely that she would only hate him more for it, but judging by how disastrously the night prior had gone, Jaime knew that it couldn’t be avoided.

After briefly washing up and changing into a fresh set of clothing, Jaime moved quickly towards the royal apartments. Upon arrival, he was shocked at the state of things. He pondered if it could, or should, be restored. So much madness had occupied the rooms over the years, and its current state reflected that.

The structure was unstable and with every step Jaime took, he could feel the scattering of chunks of stonework. His heart raced as he appraised the path to his old room. Dust hung heavy in the air as debris lined the path. It seemed someone had come through already and tried to clean the area as bricks and stone had been pushed to the sides of the hallway.

The windows were shattered, and a warm breeze wafted in; blowing Jaime’s hair slightly. Using his flesh hand for balance, Jaime slowly crept forward. A few times, Jaime lost his footing. His hand reached out to steady himself; dragging along jagged edges of fallen brick.

When eventually Jaime reached his old room, he stepped inside and appraised the space. Furniture had been overturned from fallen stonework. The space was blanketed in dust and debris. It was a bit difficult to breathe as Jaime made his way towards the chest at the foot of the bed.

In his haste to leave King’s Landing, Jaime left much of his belongings behind. When he road north, he brought only the clothing on his back, his sword, and a small amount of coin. It had not crossed his mind that he would ever see his room again. He imagined his belongings would be divvied out among castle attendants as Cersei ordered his room turned over for someone else.

Opening the chest, Jaime kneeled and rifled through his belongings. He never had much to his name. As a member of the Kingsguard, anything he needed was provided for him, but his need or desire for material possession was nonexistent. A must un-Lannister trait.

As Jaime’s hand fumbled around the chest, he found what he was looking for. The small, cloth bag was as he left it. He stuffed it into his jerkin and moved from the room.

With possession of what he came for, Jaime ignored the burning of his hand from the many scrapes he earned on the path to his old room. His stomach growled angrily from having missed the morning meal and Jaime knew lunch was likely underway.

When Jaime emerged from the section of the Keep containing the royal apartments, he moved quickly towards the hall. Tyrion and Bronn were seated at a table finishing lunch as Jaime approached.

“Tyrion, have you seen Brienne?”

His little brother offered a sympathetic smile. “They are preparing to depart for the docks. I believe she was on the way to the courtyard to meet with her father and Pod.”

_Fuck._

Running from the hall and towards the courtyard, Jaime saw Brienne stepping away from someone. Bran.

“Brienne! Wait, please.”

At his approach, Brienne’s eyes darted around nervously as though looking for aid. It broke his heart that his mere presence caused such discomfort.

“Ser Jaime. I was just leaving. I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to speak with you.”

“Please. Just a moment.” Jaime’s eyes were imploring as he stood before her. His eyes moved uncertainly to Bran who looked between them with an amused expression on his face.

_Gods damnit, Bran. You truly are enjoying my suffering._

Despite her apparent reservations, Brienne relented. Jaime guided her towards a side room just opposite the castle entrance. The information he planned to share was not something Jaime wished to offer, but he wanted it to come from him. His greatest fear was Brienne remembering while alone or among those who could not support her through it.

“I’m very sorry about last night. I hope you don’t feel taken advantage of. It was all so hazy. It felt as though we were back at Winterfell together. I feel terribly for it.”

Brienne’s discomfort was evident, and Jaime averted his eyes to collect himself. “When I left, I said horrible things to you. I tried to make you believe that I was doing everything for Cersei, because I feared you would follow me. I would have happily died knowing you were safe, but I should have been honest, and I’ll regret it until the day I die. You asked me to stay and I didn’t, though I’ve never wanted for anything more. There was one thing that I didn’t know when I left though.”

Jaime could feel the tears forming at the back of his eyes. His throat burned as he took a moment to collect himself.

“Not long after I left, you realized you were… with child. Our child.”

Unable to look at her, Jaime could feel her shock ripple through the room. A small gasp pushed past her lips. Summoning all the courage he had, Jaime met her eyes.

“The reason everyone hates Sansa so much, is that aside from exiling you and sending you away without supplies, horse, nor coin, she gave you moon tea. You didn’t know it, and then you lost the babe alone in the woods. Our child.”

A slight quiver of Brienne’s chin broke Jaime. He felt the tears leave his eyes as he thought on the babe that should have been. He reached into his jerkin and produced the small bag that he had brought to King’s landing when he joined Aerys’ Kingsguard.

From it, Jaime produced a small lion pendant and chain. He placed it in Brienne’s palm, but he held on tightly to her hand as he spoke.

“My mother gave this to me as a boy. She called me her little lion. I never thought I would have a child to pass it on to, but I brought it to King’s Landing because it reminded me of her. It’s the only thing I had from her. When Cersei’s children were born, they never felt mine. They weren’t mine to claim and I wasn’t allowed near them; even as an uncle. I never even thought about having children of my own, until I met you.”

Jaime took pause and glanced at Brienne through his lashes. “The day you left King’s Landing with Pod, was the first day I looked at this since I packed it for King’s Landing some twenty years prior. I knew that I could never have you, but if I did, I would have wanted any child of ours to have this. I want you to have it now. Even if you decide to take another man and bear his children, I want you to have this for the babe we lost. Our child.”

Brienne stammered slightly and shook her head. “I can’t accept that. It’s yours. You’ll find someone to truly love; not an unlovable woman such as me. You’re a good man. You deserve someone who can make you truly happy.”

“Its our child’s. Or at least, it should have been. I don’t have anyone to give it to. I meant what I said. I’ll not take another. I gave my heart to you years ago. There is nothing left for anyone else. It’s yours. It will always be yours.”

Brienne’s face was a blur as Jaime released her hand and backed away. A small voice reached his ears and offered the smallest spark of hope.

“Can I write you? Are you going home to Casterly Rock?”

“I’m not quite sure where home is. I’m not going west, but I don’t imagine I can stay here much longer. They’ll kick me out soon enough. I would like if you wrote.”

Brienne’s brows rose at his words. “If you’re staying here, mayhap I’ll see you in a few weeks. King Jon has asked us to return for the soldiers’ trial.”

_Now I’m definitely not leaving._

Nodding in agreement, Jaime watched as Brienne looked at the pendant in her hand. A sorrowful expression tugged at her features. “I’ll cherish it for the babe we lost. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or curse that I can’t remember it all. I suppose its likely best for Sansa that I didn’t. I’m not hurt by what she did to me, but an innocent babe…”

Brienne grimaced and clutched the pendant tightly. Tears welled in her eyes as she moved forward and hugged Jaime. It was both the most wonderful and painful embrace of his life. He didn’t know if he could let her go.

_Please stay with me._

“Can I see you off at the docks?”

With a small nod, Brienne agreed. They left the small room and Jaime’s hand twitched at his side. He wanted for nothing more than to hold her hand in his, but at the sight of Selwyn waiting by the horses, Jaime thought better of it.

“What is he doing here?”

At Selwyn’s question, an annoyed sigh pushed past Brienne’s lips. “Do you plan to control every aspect of my life? I won’t get on the ship if you start this again.”

Selwyn’s mouth clamped shut as he climbed atop his horse. Jaime noted a flicker of trepidation on Pod’s face as he mounted his horse and guided it beside Selwyn.

Realizing the additional rider, an attendant ran quickly to the stables to bring Jaime a horse. The sun was warm on his neck as Jaime stood waiting in the courtyard. Memories of sharing a horse with Brienne rushed back to Jaime.

When the attendant returned, Jaime quickly mounted the horse, and the group setout for the docks. The ride was quiet, and Jaime was shaken by the state of the city. Many buildings were in disrepair, and Jaime wondered if life would ever be the same in King’s Landing.

_Mayhap that’s how I can help. I can help them rebuild. They never let me do that at Winterfell._

Glancing to Brienne, Jaime noted the shock on her face as she took in the city’s destruction. As much as Jaime regretted how he left, he was glad that Brienne wasn’t there for the siege. She might have been one of many innocents burned in wildfire or dragonfire.

When they reached the port, Jaime watched the trio board the ship. His spirits fell as the crew prepare to push back from dock. Brienne moved to the front of the ship and glanced down at Jaime with a sad smile on her face.

As the ship pushed back, Jaime felt as though he was standing atop the battlements of Riverrun once more. He had to fight the urge to jump into the Blackwater and swim after her. The expression Brienne’s face was one of uncertainty. Trying to appear reassuring, Jaime forced a small smile and raised his golden hand in goodbye.

The action seemed to spark something in Brienne. Her eyes went wide as her hand slowly came up. Even as the distance between them grew, he saw his name at her lips. With Pod at Brienne’s side, the young squire grimaced and ran a hand over his face. He moved away quickly to rejoin Selwyn; an urgent conversation playing out that Jaime had no chance to hear.

_I wonder if I can just sit on this dock for a few weeks._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the turning point for angst. Next chapter gets a lot better. I promise.


	16. Together and Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne on Tarth and Jaime in King's Landing. Both are doing their best to move along.

**Brienne**

It had been three weeks since Brienne returned to Tarth. Three weeks since she stood at the rail of the ship, but all she had seen was Riverrun and a rowboat.

The people of Tarth recognized her immediately, and most seemed surprised by her presence. Being a port city, it didn’t take long for word to arrive of why she was home.

Everyone was kind to Brienne’s face despite acting as though she was deaf. Whispers at her back worsened Brienne’s already low morale. It wasn’t that the comments were cruel, but they were a harsh reminder of her failures.

_‘The Northern girl exiled her.’ ‘I heard they killed her only to bring her back.’ ‘The call her Kingslayer’s Whore on the mainland.’ ‘Is she truly a knight?’ ‘She’ll never find a match.’ ‘Who will succeed her?’ ‘The Tarth line dies with her.’_

The Tarth lines dies with her. It was the most difficult truth to hear. From a young age, Brienne came to learn how undesirable she was. Failed matches, hushed words, and a cruel Septa, all made it clear to Brienne that a husband would only bed her for duty… if Selwyn could find her a match. If not, Brienne was the last of an ancient House.

Since returning to Tarth, no additional memories returned. Podrick spent most of his days at Brienne’s side. The young man was always chipper, but Brienne could sense his discontent beneath the surface. It was evident that Pod was uncertain about life on Tarth, though he never said as much. As they rode into the village that day, Brienne confronted him about it.

“I appreciate all you’re doing for me, but I truly believe you would be better off in King’s Landing. I’m confident that King Jon would knight you and name you to his Kingsguard. You are a fine young man and following me around will do you no good.”

Pod’s eyes were resolute when he met hers. “I should have followed you the first time. I’ll follow you now. I want to.”

_Gods. This young man is too good to tie himself to me._

As they passed by small farms on the way to the village, the people smiled and bowed. Tarth’s subjects were always kind despite their penchant for gossip. They were proud of their island and House Tarth.

Brienne wondered if they were secretly dismayed at her return. It was likely her father would have named a proper heir had she not.

When they arrived at the village, Brienne led Pod towards a shop that she visited frequently in youth. It was the shop of a local smith.

The smith, Ilio, was a good man and produced only the finest quality armor and weapons. Now that Brienne carried Oathkeeper at her hip, Pod had been carrying only a spare sword from Evenfall’s armory. Brienne intended to rectify that.

As Brienne stepped into the shop, she startled slightly at the new face before her. “Oh. I’m terribly sorry. I used to procure items here from Ilio.”

At her words, the young man frowned. “He was my father, my lady. Unfortunately, he died a couple of years ago.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I’ve been away for some time. I fear that I’ve not yet caught up with all that has transpired in my absence.”

The young man offered a warm smile and nodded. “Yes, we’ve heard tales of your exploits. Were it not for rumors from the mainland, I fear most might have thought you dead. Many from Renly’s camp later backed Stannis and died on the Blackwater.”

It was yet another reminder of Brienne’s failures.

_I never wrote my father. I thought he would prefer it that way._

With a nervous laugh, Brienne shrugged. “Well rumor is I died anyway.”

The man’s face flushed slightly. “Yes, we’ve heard _those_ rumors as well.”

_Gods. Does he think me a whore too?_

Brienne forced a smile before glancing back at Pod. “This is Podrick Payne. He is a squire from the mainland; although in truth he should be a knight by now.”

Without hesitation, Pod stepped forward and nodded. “I am _Ser_ Brienne’s squire. I will not accept knighthood unless by her sword. Were it not for her efforts, Tarth might find itself the only part of the Westeros not ruled by death.”

Brienne felt her face flush at Pod’s overly generous words. She moved to correct Pod, but the young smith spoke confidently.

“We’ve heard _those_ truths. My father would have been proud, Ser Brienne. I know he provided you weaponry for Renly’s war. He was quite proud of it. We heard that you won the melee at Bitterbridge by knocking Ser Loras to his ass.”

_Gods. Did I? It doesn’t sound likely._

Brienne’s eyes darted uncertainly to Pod who nodded in affirmation. Turning back to the young man before her, Brienne spoke to what she did remember.

“Your father did make my weaponry. It was of the highest quality and served me well. As such, I likely had an unfair advantage at the melee. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch you name.”

The young man’s chest swelled with pride at the praise to his father’s work. “Balon, my lady. Ser. How can I be of service today?”

“Pod here is in need of a proper sword. We’ve only spare weapons at Evenfall, and he deserves something of high quality. I was hoping you could create one for him. Whatever the cost, I only care for a few specific details.”

Balon’s eyes darted to Pod. He nodded to the young man before looking back at Brienne. “Anything for the future Evenstar.”

Reaching into her jerkin, Brienne produced a paper containing an image of House Payne’s coat of arms. “I would like the hilt to somehow incorporate this.”

As Brienne handed the paper to Balon, she then directed his attention to the other side. “This is one option, but I made a bit of an adjustment to part of it.”

Brienne had not yet shown Pod her idea. In truth, she worried at his reaction. The House Payne sigil was a checkered field of alternating purple and white. In the center of each square was a gold coin. Instead of the gold coins, Brienne had changed them to gold sunbursts; a nod to their friendship.

Appraising the revised sigil, Balon smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “I much prefer your modification. I can have something ready in a few days if it please you, my lady ser.”

“That would be perfect. Thank you.” Brienne placed coin in Balon’s hand as partial payment. Glancing back at Pod who had been unable to see the sketching, Brienne smiled and moved from the shop. 

As they walked leisurely back to the horses, Brienne saw a merchant speaking with a traveler. It was always easy to determine who was a local and who a traveler from foreign cities or the mainland. Judging by the attire of the traveler, Brienne guessed the young woman was Tyroshi.

Moving forward slowly, Brienne heard the merchant making his sale’s pitch as she admired his wares.

“Yes, it’s real sapphire. Most might tell you that Tarth is known as the Sapphire Isle for the color of its water, but I’ll let you in on a secret.”

The man leaned in close and raised a knowing brow at the woman. “In truth, the island is filled with sapphires. We could buy all of Westeros if we wanted to. There is nothing so fine as Tarth’s sapphires.”

At the words, Brienne’s progress towards the horse halted. Her heart began pounding and her face paled at the words. Images of Locke, Jaime, and a hand, flashed in her mind. She winced at the distant sound of Locke’s blade cutting through Jaime’s wrist.

Distantly, Pod spoke imploringly. “Ser Brienne? Are you alright? Look at me.”

Brienne followed the voice, but all she could see were Jaime’s eyes.

_‘Defending the love of my life.’_

“Jaime.”

Closing her eyes to wipe the vision from her mind, it only intensified. Her mind was wild with imagery. Tied to Jaime atop a horse. Tending to Jaime through his fever. Jaime jumping into a bear pit before her.

_Those scars. I had wondered what made those scars._

Brienne reached for her collarbone and traced the lined scars that haunted her at night. She had been so frustrated at her inability to remember where they came from. The scars seemed to hold their own story as the touch intensified the memory.

Pod’s hands were at Brienne’s arms as he tried desperately to get her attention. “Brienne! Please. Can you hear me?”

The use of just her name broke her from the memory. As the village came back into focus, Brienne saw Pod standing before her with concern writ across his face. Villagers had slowed to appraise Brienne; questioning eyes trying to make sense of the scene before them.

“I’m sorry. I just… I want to go home.”

With a nod and sigh of relief, Pod grabbed Brienne’s arm and guided her forward. “Of course. We’ll get you back to Evenfall.”

_Evenfall? I meant Jaime. I need to see Jaime._

When they returned to the castle, Brienne excused herself to the rookery. She clutched the lion pendant around her neck as her mind raced. At her urgent pace up the marble stairs, her father called out upon exiting his study.

“Brienne? Are you alright? Pod, what’s going on?”

Brienne heard Pod stammer a reply as she continued upstairs without acknowledging her father. “I don’t know, my lord. We were in the village and I think she remembered something. All she said was ‘Jaime’.”

**Jaime**

In the week following Brienne’s departure, Jaime had asked Jon for two favors. The first that he be allowed to use the Keep’s rookery as he looked for housing in the city. The second that Jon name Tyrion as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West.

Jon had huffed a small laugh and crossed his arms while appraising Jaime. “I care little if you use the rookery, Ser Jaime. I also care little if you choose to disinherit yourself. I’ll send word west and to the Citadel.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Before Jaime could leave, Jon called out. “Now I have a favor to ask of you.”

Turning to face the king, Jaime’s brows furrowed as he awaited Jon’s request.

“Serve as my Hand. Then you can send as many missives to Tarth as you like.”

For a moment, Jaime’s mouth gaped at Jon’s accurate assessment of why he desired access to the Red Keep’s rookery.

A hysterical laugh escaped Jaime’s mouth. “I imagine it’s a bit confusing really, but you mistake me with my brother. You recall him? A bit short with a chin covered in some type of throw rug. He is the one who serves as Hand. I’m just a knight.”

“Aye, I’m familiar with Lord Tyrion’s history in politics. He talked my ear off about it just days ago. Of course, he has as much desire to participate in my small council as you have desire to rule at the Rock. Besides, I want _you_ as Hand. I had offered him the role of Master of Coin. I hear he always pays his debts.”

Jaime’s brows knitted in confusion. “I know nothing of politics. You have access to seven kingdoms’ worth of more qualified candidates.”

“For what purpose? I have Bran as Master of Whisperers. If I’m curious to know what has happened from similar decisions made in the past, I can ask him. If I’m curious to know what people are planning elsewhere in Westeros, I can ask him of that too. If I want to get daring and ask if I’ll lose my head over my Hand’s shit recommendations, I can also ask him that. I think I’ll take your shit recommendations. I want someone honorable; not conniving or politically savvy.”

Shaking the shock from his head, Jaime took a step forward; his eyes darting around the room questioningly. “I’m just a knight, and most would argue I’ve done a shit job at that too. I think you’re best off finding someone else for the role. I truly want nothing to do with politics.”

“That is why I want you for the role. We can hate it together. I don’t want the crown. Besides, Bran tells me that you’ll get along famously with the person likely to take the role as Commander of the Kingsguard.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. He knew the role had been offered to Brienne, but she was on Tarth now and only planning to return for the trial.

Sensing Jaime’s uncertainty, Jon smirked. “I have it on good authority that Ser Brienne will accept my offer… and I’m changing the law to allow the Kingsguard to marry. Further, they can leave at any time. I would be happy if you both serve for as long as makes you happy before you decide what to do long-term. If you hate being Hand, I won’t force you here.”

The prospect of being close to Brienne was too good to refuse; even if it meant enduring the thing he hated most. Politics.

“I suppose it might not be all that bad.”

Jon snorted and raised a knowing brow. “Thank you. I could use the help. Tyrion tells me that you’ve been helping in the city during the day. Seems a good project to raise at our first meeting.”

“Did Tyrion take the role then?”

“I believe his words were, ‘If you can convince my brother to take the role of Hand, I do believe that I can be convinced of anything.’ He probably should have asked who else I planned to extend a role to on the small council.”

Jaime snorted. “Two Lannisters on a small council? Sounds dangerous.”

An uncharacteristic smirk tugged at Jon’s lips. “Two… maybe three. I suppose we’ll see what happens.”

Just over a fortnight later, Jaime sat in the gardens staring out at the Blackwater. He was beginning to lose hope in Bran’s prediction concerning Brienne’s acceptance of her offered role. Despite a request to write him, Brienne sent no word. For his part, Jaime had written her six times.

After the sixth time, Jaime thought it best to give up. It seemed obvious Brienne had changed her mind about communicating with him. 

_What if she wants the role, but changes her mind when she realizes that I’m Hand? I should resign, I suppose. She earned the role whereas I have not. My reasoning for accepting it was selfish. Without her, there is no point._

So lost in thought was Jaime that he didn’t hear Tyrion’s approach. His younger brother sat down in a huff and snorted.

“Gods. Are you trying to compete with Jon for most brooding occupant at the Keep?”

The setting sun cast long shadows on Tyrion’s face as Jaime looked to him. “Apologies, Lord Tyrion. I did not mean to offend you with my sulking. Blame Jon. Brooding grows on you.”

_I don’t want thing growing on me indeed. Fucking idiot. I can’t believe my bumbling words that night._

With a dramatic sigh, Tyrion reclined backwards and looked the sky. His tone was wistful as he spoke more to himself than Jaime. “I prefer Winterfell Jaime. Winterfell Jaime was happy and much more enjoyable to be around than King’s Landing Jaime.”

Jaime glared at Tyrion, but he recognized the truth in it. In all the years that Jaime had called King’s Landing home, he had been Cersei’s creature. Strangely, Jaime never realized at the time how miserable he was. It was Brienne who made him happy. He never truly smiled before her. It was always the fake, arrogant smile of the Lion of Lannister. The Kingslayer’s smile.

“Yes, well I preferred Winterfell Jaime with Winterfell Brienne. Sadly, Tarth Brienne does not seem fond of King’s Landing Jaime.”

Tyrion chuckled slightly at Jaime’s words and followed his eyeline out over the bay. “Willing a ship with her aboard it won’t make it so, brother. Come, have a drink with me. Mayhap we can venture into the city together. I hear the brothels are back in order.”

Jaime glared at Tyrion. Even if Tyrion meant it in jest, Jaime’s loyalty was to Brienne. Before he could comment, Tyrion raised a defensive hand.

“I know. I know. You will not commit infidelity against the woman you are _not_ in a relationship with. Truthfully, I have little desire myself. Funny enough, while I failed at being Hand, my _actual_ hand grew quite strong and competent these past years.”

_Oh gods. I forgot how disgusting Tyrion can be. He is worse than Bronn._

Bronn. Against Jaime’s advice, Tyrion offered Bronn a position serving as his glorified attendant of sorts. It was much as it had been for Bronn when Tyrion was last in the role of Master of Coin, and Bronn was quite pleased at his ability to continue tormenting Jaime at all hours of the day.

“I didn’t think you could get more inappropriate than your behavior at Winterfell. Congratulations. You’ve outdone yourself.”

With an amused chuckle, Tyrion rubbed at his chin; his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I don’t remember you being this much of a prude. It has been nearly a moon since you accidentally bedded your lady knight. Come now brother. I’m certain your hand is quite strong at this point.”

“You’re a dog. Leave me alone.”

The mirth on Tyrion’s face was almost as irritating as his words. Reaching into his jerkin, Tyrion produced a letter.

“Here. This just came in. A little something to help your hand’s strength training, I suppose.”

After placing the letter on the table, Tyrion hopped down from his chair and clapped Jaime on the shoulder. “I’ll see you on the morrow.”

A wide smile stretched across Jaime’s face as he noted the seal bearing Tarth’s sigil. Tearing open the letter, Jaime’s face fell as he glanced to the end and noticed the letter wasn’t from Brienne, but rather her father.

_Ser Jaime,_

_I’ve received word from Lord Bran that the Bolton soldiers will be at the Keep in a week’s time. I should like to have some words with you when I arrive._

_Lord Selwyn_


	17. Denial and Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moon after Selwyn, Brienne, and Pod left for Tarth, Jaime waits at the dock for a guest or guests from the Sapphire Isle.

**Jaime**

Jaime frantically paced the length of the dock as he stared at the ship just out in the horizon. It had been a week since Selwyn’s letter arrived, and Jaime prayed to the Seven that Brienne was aboard the ship with her father.

In the event Brienne made the journey, Jaime had spent the day making himself presentable. He dragged Tyrion into the city to join him for a shave and haircut. Of course, Bronn had insisted on joining them. The sellsword was quick to add a degree of vulgarity to the process, which Jaime hardly appreciated.

_“Clean his face up, boys. He wants to be nice and smooth for when he’s between his lady’s legs.”_

More amusing to Jaime was seeing his brother without a beard. _“Gods. There you are. Half the space your head usually occupies is now free.”_

Now as Jaime looked out across the Blackwater, he scratched his chin nervously. At his back, Arya’s teasing voice reached his ears. “Mayhap if you swim to the ship, you would spare this poor dock from the hole you’re wearing into it. There will be nothing left for the ship to tie off to.”

“Shouldn’t you be out collecting more faces or something? Why don’t you take Bronn’s? He has been more insufferable than usual lately.”

Arya hummed in feigned consideration. “I could take Selwyn’s face if you like.”

Jaime reprimanded himself for considering it. It felt as though Selwyn and Pod were his last obstacle to Brienne, but he couldn’t seem to find a way around the giant of a man.

“Gods dammit Bran. Why can’t you just tell me if she is on the ship?”

Sparing a glance at the young man, Jaime scowled at the smirk tugging at Bran’s lips. “I suppose its cruel of me to not give you a _hand_. It’s quite windy though. What if my host _falls_ from the sky and breaks a wing?”

_I suppose I deserve that. It’s to be torture then. Lovely._

Based on the clipped note sent by Selwyn, Jaime worried that Brienne might remain on Tarth. Jaime tried to put himself in Selwyn’s position. It was likely that Jaime would run any man through with a sword who treated his daughter as he had treated Brienne. 

_I suppose I should be grateful he spared my life… so far._

“If she’s on the ship, I wager our Lord Hand here fucks it all up before she walks down the gangway.”

At Arya’s words, Jaime began to reply, but Bran beat him to it.

“That seems a bit dramatic. I give him until we’re ready to leave port.”

_Truly these are Ned’s children. They mean to destroy me mentally._

“Why are you still here, _Lady_ Arya? Don’t you have a kingdom to be running?”

At her formal title, Arya scowled and unsheathed her dagger. Flipping it around impassively in her hand, she took a step towards Jaime.

“I’m here to help serve northern justice to northern soldiers. Then I’ll return home… perhaps with a new face or two.”

Jaime thought better of calling the young wolf ‘lady’ for the remainder of his impatient wait at the dock. When eventually the ship approached, Jaime could feel his heart hammering in his chest. His eyes desperately scanned the deck of the ship for any sign of Brienne.

As the ship prepared to dock, the looming figure of Selwyn Tarth came into view. When neither Pod nor Brienne were at his side, Jaime’s heart sank.

_Perhaps word already reached Tarth that I’m now Hand. Mayhap that is why she isn’t here to accept the position._

Jaime’s face fell in resignation as his eyes met Selwyn’s. The crew set out the gangway for Selwyn to disembark, and Jaime waited beside Arya and Bran to greet him. When Selwyn stepped onto the dock and marched towards them, Jaime forced a smile in greeting. He bowed his head and spoke quietly.

“Welcome, Lord Selwyn. We’ll be taking you up to the Keep.”

With a huff, Selwyn shook his head. “Assuming the king has no immediate need of me, I would like to have words with you upon arrival at the Keep.”

Jaime nodded in understanding and began to push Bran’s wheelchair towards the carriage. Familiar voices drifted through the air from the direction of the ship. Halting his progress towards the awaiting horses and carriage, Jaime looked back to observe Pod and Brienne stepping onto the gangway. The pair was having an animated conversation as they walked leisurely from the ship.

When Brienne’s eyes met Jaime’s, a small smile stretched across her face, and Jaime felt as though he might die of happiness. Abandoning Bran, Jaime ran to greet her.

Distantly he heard Bran call out to him. “Ser Jaime, come back. I need a _push_.”

Ignoring Pod’s presence entirely, Jaime barreled into Brienne. His arms wrapped firmly around her as he choked back a sob. Everything that was not Brienne faded away. All he could smell was her scent. All he could feel was her body. All he could hear was her voice.

“Ser Jaime. Its nice to see you.”

_Ser Jaime. Not Jaime._

Collecting himself, Jaime stepped back and nodded. “Ser Brienne. Apologies. You look well.”

Glancing at Pod, Jaime’s mirth died. Averting his eyes, Jaime nodded politely in greeting. “Podrick. Its good to see you.”

“Its Ser Podrick now. I knighted him. Well… me and my father’s Master at Arms. Just in case anyone questioned it, I wanted a second knight to affirm the title.” Brienne grimaced slightly at her own words.

It hurt Jaime to hear that Brienne questioned her knighthood. If nothing else came from the visit, he hoped to correct that misconception. Jaime’s eyes appraised Brienne and landed on the lion pendant around her neck.

His breathing faltered at the sight of it. Judging by her lack of communication, he wondered if she had cast it into the sea not long after leaving the city a moon turn ago.

A smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as his eyes lingered on her neck. The bruising from the noose was gone, though he imagined the emotional wound would never heal.

“You kept it. Thank you.”

As Brienne realized what he was looking at, she grabbed the pendant between her fingers and smiled. “Of course. I wear it in honor of our babe.” Glancing to Pod, an uncomfortable smile tugged at her lips. “Can you give us a moment, Ser Podrick?”

With a huff of laughter, Pod nodded. “Always so formal. How come Ser Jaime gets to be just ‘Jaime’.”

Pod winked at Jaime before walking away. The act nearly sent Jaime backwards into the bay in shock. When his eyes returned to Brienne, he could see the color creeping into her cheeks. Clearing her throat, Brienne bit her lip before speaking.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t answer your letters. In truth, I only received them a few days ago.”

_Oh. Here I thought she hated me._

Jaime spoke teasingly, but he could hear the nervousness in his tone. “Quite alright. It was King Jon’s fault really. He said that I could have access to as many ravens as I wanted. I was ready to send Bran next, but here you are.”

Brienne chuckled at the words and it sent a warmth through Jaime’s body. He glanced to the end of the dock were Selwyn appeared to be growing impatient.

“I suppose we should get to the Keep. Your father seems ready to tear my head off.”

Before Jaime could extend his arm to Brienne, she began to walk forward. A slight disappointment washed over him as he moved quickly to walk at her side.

“How is life on Tarth?”

Brienne grumbled in response. “Well I certainly recall why left.”

“Did you remember anything else while on Tarth? The maester and Sam hoped you might.”

At the question, a blush spread across Brienne’s face. “I remembered who you lost your hand defending. _And_ your affinity for bears.”

Glancing at him, Brienne’s eyes held a warmth and recognition that Jaime longed for. A wide smile spread across his face in response.

“Yes, I was quite devastated when she died. Luckily death is not so permanent as I thought. Did you remember anything else?”

Brienne stopped walking just out of earshot of her the small group waiting to depart for the Keep. “Yes. Just two other things that only came back to me a week ago. One a memory and one… something else.”

Jaime could stop staring at her. He wished for nothing more than to kiss her. Staring at her mouth, Jaime listened as Brienne spoke; a smile tugging at her lips.

“First, I remembered that Podrick is shit at hobbling horses. Otherwise, he’s a very worthy knight. And second…”

Jaime could see that Brienne was very uncomfortable by whatever she was about to say. Her hand gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper tightly as she stammered slightly. The words came out just above a whisper.

“I remembered why you felt so familiar. Why I felt so comfortable with you. Like being home. I remembered how much I love you.”

**Brienne**

The week before they left Tarth, the fallout happened. When Brienne returned from the village with a significant memory and feeling restored, she needed to get to the rookery.

Brienne needed to write Bran and understand if her memory of Locke, caring for Jaime, and the bear was real. It was too embarrassing to ask Jaime, because if she was wrong, it would expose the pathetic assumption the _she_ could possibly be the love who Jaime spoke so ardently of loving.

It had been difficult to keep from writing to Jaime, but she wouldn’t allow herself to. Brienne prayed to the Seven that with distance between them, Jaime could find true love.

Brienne believed Jaime’s false love for her a mere reflection of the ordeal he endured in leaving Cersei.

_‘_ I went to Winterfell because I love you. I returned south because I love you. I killed Cersei because I love you. And I took you to Volantis because I love you still. I will never stop loving you _.’_

_He didn’t say he lost a hand because he loved me. He didn’t say he jumped in front of a bear because he loved me. That would have been years before leaving Cersei. It’s likely not a true memory, but merely the invention of a mind desperately wishing it was true. He couldn’t have loved me then. I’ve never been lovable._

The lack of contact with Jaime was miserable, and the only way Brienne could describe the feeling was like a dwindling flame. It seemed the longer she was away from Jaime, the worse she felt.

Brienne cried herself to sleep most nights for reasons she couldn’t explain. When sleep did find her, she saw green eyes as she swayed from a tree. It was a vicious cycle from which there was no reprieve.

In the mornings, Selwyn and Pod looked at her with nothing short of pity. The crying only intensified when she remembered her feelings for Jaime. It had been easier before when she only felt hints of something. Now that her body and mind recalled her unrequited love for him, it was torture.

_Jaime fancies himself in love with me to dull the pain from losing Cersei. From losing the love he lost his hand for. If I give him space, he’ll meet someone that pleases him more. His love for me is false. It won’t last. He won’t stay. Unfortunately for me, my love for him is all too real. It won’t leave._

Then Bran’s letter returned from King’s Landing. Selwyn had despaired when it arrived. He called Brienne into the study and threw the missive at her.

“Why have you written Lord Bran about the Kingslayer?”

“His name is Ser Jaime! How can you know the truth of what he has done, and still call him that with little more than disdain in your voice?”

Sitting down in a huff, Selwyn rubbed angrily at his eyes. “You’re correct. I’m letting my personal opinion of the man cloud the good he has done. Why have you written Lord Bran about _Ser Jaime_?”

Taking the missive, Brienne flipped it over and saw her name on the outside.

“This was addressed to me!”

Selwyn feigned innocence and shrugged. “I didn’t pay attention. It was on my desk and I opened it.”

With an exasperated huff, Brienne read the missive and bit back a small smile.

_Ser Brienne,_

_You are not mistaken. Those are in fact your memories of Ser Jaime. Are you beginning to see it yet? He only wants for one woman. You. His true love. His twin flame._

_To your other question, no, only those Bolton soldiers think your knighthood unearned. The rest of Westeros, or at least those who fought with you, think you a great knight more than worthy of the title. One of the most honorable in the history of the Seven Kingdoms._

_Bran_

“You’ve not answered my question. Why have you asked about Ser Jaime? You’ve said nothing to me of memories returning.”

Brienne shrugged. “What would I say father? That I am remembering how I loved a man that could never return it? A man who you hate for actions committed against _me_ , yet I do not hate him for those actions. Perhaps its just another way in which I’ve failed you. I was thinking of accepting King Jon’s offer to become Lady Commander of the Kingsguard. I’ll never be able to find someone willing to have me, but mayhap I can make you proud in another way.”

To Brienne’s surprise, Selwyn leapt from his chair and walked around the desk to crouch before her. “Do not say that! I am proud of you. You have done nothing to disappoint me. I’m happy that you’re home and safe. I regret that it took death to return you to me.”

With a deep sigh, Selwyn stood and paced the room. “I have greatly erred in the raising of you. I was selfish. After your siblings and mother died, I hid myself away. I couldn’t make myself happy, let alone you. I tried to appease you in other ways. I kept singers at court. I let you learn the sword, morningstar, and archery. I let you bow instead of curtsey; don breeches instead of dresses. I did those things thinking they would make you happy. You seemed so miserable. I did everything except provide you with the one thing you needed most. Love. For that, I am sorry, Brienne. I’ve always loved you, child. My greatest regret is hearing that you died thinking yourself unloved.”

Shaking her head, Brienne looked away. “Everyone keeps telling me that I’m loved, but I don’t feel it. It’s like someone telling you that you’re hot when you’re freezing. You know it’s wrong, but their insistence begins to make you feel crazy.”

A pained expression flashed across Selwyn’s face. “That boy. The strange one who thinks he’s a bird. He said this would happen; that the last thought before someone dies gets imprinted in a way. It becomes difficult, if not impossible, to remove. It took years for his cousin to snap out of it, but even now, King Jon still doesn’t _feel_ as though he wants the crown nor that he is accepted. He is doing it out of duty.”

Looking out the window towards the yards, Selwyn seemed to struggle with something. “I’ve lied to you, Brienne. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I only meant to protect you.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed as she appraised her father. The light pouring in from the window framed his face as it contorted in pain.

“The Kingsl… Ser Jaime… has been writing to you. I didn’t see Lord Bran’s letter by accident. I’ve had all ravens from King’s Landing brought to me. I’m so sorry.”

Shock shone in Brienne’s eyes. “Why would you do that? How many?”

With a grimace, Selwyn looked to her. “Six. I’m not proud of it. Please, just try to see this from my perspective. He admits that his actions led to your death! He dishonored you; treated you like a brothel worker! He put a bastard in you. Then he hurt you by lying. By pretending to flee back to his sister. I understand the _reason_ , but it hurt you. As a father, I fear that if he he did it once, he could do it again.”

Brienne felt her frustration build. Her fists balled at her side as she stood from her chair. “I want the letters!”

Without another word, Selwyn walked to his desk and produced the stacked missives; all with seals broken. Brienne’s body shook with anger as she snatched the letters from his hand. A ferocious storm brewed in her that rivaled their kingdom’s name.

Pausing at the door, Brienne glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll be accepting King Jon’s offer as Lady Commander of the Kingsguard. I may be incapable of being a wife and mother, but I can be a sword. I can have a purpose. I’ll make my own decisions now.”

When Brienne sat down that night to read the missives, her heart sank at the growing sadness beneath the words as the letters progressed.

_Brienne,_

_I hope you got to Tarth safely. It’s awful here without you. I’m forced to converse with my brother and Bronn. The king might be the most brooding man I’ve ever met, and he doesn’t appreciate my japes._

_How is Tarth? I passed by it once on the way to Dorne. It reminded me of you. I hope to visit someday, if you’ll have me. I would stay for as long as you’ll have me._

_Love,_

_Jaime_

_Brienne,_

_I was just in the city aiding the cleanup effort. I saw this rotting fish covered in black ash and I couldn’t stop laughing. It reminded me of the Blackfish. A man so stubborn he makes you seem compromising. I let you through siege lines years ago to treat with him on the North’s behalf. You likely don’t remember that._

_Do you remember anything else since you’ve been home? I was speaking to Sam and he said familiar people or things might help. Mayhap Pod can tell you of some of your adventures. You remembered a bit when we sparred. Mayhap you can spar with him?_

_Love,_

_Jaime_

_Brienne,_

_That’s it. I can’t continue to honor the oath to Lady Stark where it concerns her youngest daughter. The creepy little shit jumped out at me the other day wearing my sister’s face! I almost died. Then you would have needed to take me to Volantis._

_Things are very annoying here. I’m starting to wonder if I should leave. I don’t think I’m good at the role King Jon has given me. I’ve always been the stupidest Lannister. Mayhap I should go to Essos. Could I stop by and visit you on the way? Just for a moment. I won’t stay if you don’t want me to._

_Love,_

_Jaime_

_Brienne,_

_I don’t really have a reason for this letter. I just miss you. I told you that I was hopeless. Are you well? Are you happy? I told King Jon that I would at least stay in my role until the soldiers who hurt you are brought to justice. I hope you’ll return to the city. Can I see you if you do?_

_Love,_

_Jaime_

_Brienne,_

_I understand if you don’t wish to see or hear from me. Could we perhaps be friends some day? Mayhap I could serve Tarth? A bit of penance for what I’ve done to you._

_Love,_

_Jaime_

_Brienne,_

_I don’t mean to annoy you. I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I’ll leave you be if you prefer. I hope to see you in King’s Landing soon. I’ll keep my distance if that’s more agreeable._

_Love,_

_Jaime_

Now as Brienne sat outside the study that her father and Jaime were in, she took a steadying breath and tried to maintain the courage it took to confess her love for Jaime. It still didn’t feel possible to be loved by him. She feared that at any moment, he would realize how confused he had been and how unlovable she was.

It had been Jon to convince her to try. After the fight with her father, Brienne immediately wrote to the king. While Jon conceded he was not close to Brienne _before_ , they shared a bond that made Brienne feel she could confide in him.

Jon struck Brienne as impartial where it concerned her and Jaime. Summoning the courage, she asked Jon bluntly of things. While pacing outside the study, Brienne recalled the letter from Jon that she received in response to her query.

_Ser Brienne,_

_I’m pleased to hear from you, and I’m glad to know that you’ll be in King’s Landing soon to give me your answer._

_Regarding your questions, I can offer you this. Yes, I still struggle to feel a want of this crown and acceptance from those around me. I don’t know if those feelings will ever go away, and I’ll admit that I’ve accepted the crown out of duty._

_It’s possible you may never feel lovable, but maybe you will come to accept love; even if it frightens you or seems unimaginable. It frightens me every day that I put on the crown._

_I often wonder if those around me will kill me for my decisions. It seems unimaginable that I could be accepted as anything other than a bastard, but every day I walk this Keep and this city to find people bowing, smiling at me, and working with me to make Westeros better. It seems ridiculous, but its real._

_One thing I know for certain, is that Ser Jaime would be more than happy to make you feel nothing but loved every day for the rest of your life; if you want that. I’m starting to wonder if he wants for anything beyond that._

_By the gods… show mercy on me and the rest of the castle occupants. Accept this man. He’s starting to out-brood even me. If I make the mistake of getting him to talk about what is troubling him, he won’t shut up about you._

_I look forward to seeing you soon._

_Jon_


	18. Promises and Challenges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has a talk with Selwyn. Brienne encounters a man who quickly restores another memory.

**Jaime**

The study had never felt so small as when Selwyn Tarth stood inside of it. Jaime felt as he did when meeting his idol, Ser Arthur Dayne, for the first time. A nervous anxiety bubbled in his core. While it was not revere that Jaime felt for Selwyn, it was a strong fear that rattled Jaime.

The older lord appraised the room slowly before meeting Jaime’s eyes. His lips pressed into a firm line as he considered Jaime for a moment.

“Let me start by reiterating that I respect you as a knight. That is not the issue that I take with you. My issue concerns my daughter. You concede that she died because of your actions. Because of your lies.”

Swallowing thickly, Jaime nodded and looked to the floor. He was afraid of the judgement in Selwyn’s gaze.

“My daughter has not had an easy life, and much of that is because of my failings. I suppose we have that much in common. We're both to blame for her belief that she is unlovable. As a father, my offense is greater.”

The words surprised Jaime, and he risked a glance at Selwyn. Looking up through his lashes, Jaime saw the resignation and pain on the older lord’s face.

“I was a shit father. I’ve more regrets in my raising of Brienne than all other areas of my life combined. I took her away from you, because I feared you would be the end of her again. The problem is that she seems unable to start anew without you. Something is… off… with her.”

A slight panic filled Jaime as he focused his full attention on Selwyn. Their eyes met and a wordless acknowledgement of their shared fear for Brienne passed between them.

“She is withdrawn and sullen. Every night when she retires, I check on her. I’ve yet to enter, but I stand at her door poised to. Then I hear her crying softly to herself. At first, I thought it was merely the shock of it all. Of finding out she died and lost years of memories. Of being back on Tarth. Of hearing the whispers at the docks. The rumors from the mainland followed us home. _All_ of them.”

The implication was clear, and Jaime winced. Averting his eyes once more, Jaime took a steadying breath.

“Things have only gotten worse. A few times she has called out for you in dreams. Nightmares it seems. Something about bears, wights, and… the babe. When she wakes, she doesn’t seem to recall the nightmares, or perhaps she thinks them little more than that. She won’t talk to me or Pod about it. She claims to have only regained a few memories; all but one of you.”

The older lord took a steadying breath. “I need your help.”

At the words, Jaime’s head snapped up to meet Selwyn’s eyes. He appeared defeated and desperate. “I want my daughter back. This sullen woman isn’t her. My daughter was always a kind, innocent, and loving girl under the surface, but to the world, she was a confident, stubborn, determined warrior. I miss that in her. Now she seems to be fading. Like a dying fire. The only time she smiles is when she thinks of you.”

Hope filled Jaime’s heart. After Brienne’s words on the dock, Jaime didn’t think he could possibly be happier, but when they approached Selwyn to journey towards the Keep his hope faded. The man seemed displeased, and Jaime worried that despite Brienne’s proclamation, she would honor her father’s wishes and leave after their visit.

“Bring her back to me, please. Help her remember who she is. Help her understand how loved she is. I fear that I may have lost my chance to prove myself on that account. I… betrayed her trust. I withheld your letters. I intended to tell you to stop writing her today, but we had an argument and I’ve realized some things. Well, that and she is properly pissed off at me now. I do believe she intends to take King Jon up on his offer out of spite alone.”

Selwyn sighed and looked to Jaime. “Can you help her?”

“I’ll do everything I can. I would do anything for her.” Jaime’s tone was nothing but sincere. He would move mountains for Brienne if he could. He felt to be moving one right now.

Taking a deep breath, Jaime spoke quickly. “I want for nothing more than to marry your daughter. She is everything to me, and I want to make her happy.”

With a nod, Selwyn looked away and grimaced. A spark of anger ignited once more. “If you’re to court her, do it properly! My daughter is not a whore to be used for your pleasure. She deserves respect and decency. She plays at a knight, but she has a maiden’s heart. If I so much as hear more foul rumors of what she is to you...”

Jaime put up a hand in understanding. “I’m certain you’ll see to it that I’m qualified to join the ranks of the Unsullied.”

Selwyn hummed loudly and looked away. “Just… take care of her as I couldn’t. I hope that someday she forgives me. She’s all I have left. My only kin. The only person left in this world that I love. I can’t lose her again.”

“Nor can I. You have my word.”

As the men locked eyes, Selwyn huffed a small laugh and muttered loudly. “The Kingslayer of all the fucking people. Stubborn child.”

It was the first time that Jaime heard his moniker used without disdain heavy in the speaker’s voice. Despite the seeming end to their conversation, Jaime wasn’t certain if he should leave.

Glancing back at Jaime as though he was the greatest dolt to ever live, Selwyn shrugged and pointed to the door. “Go on then. Much work to be done!”

Snapping to attention, Jaime moved quickly from the room. Brienne stood on the opposite side of the hallway, leaning against the stonework. Moving to her quickly, Jaime reached out and tugged her close. The embrace felt as incredible as the one at the dock.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

It felt as though Brienne melted into his arms at the words. “I’ve missed you too.”

Jaime buried his face against her neck. It still felt surreal to be holding her. The memory of holding her lifeless body in his arms just over a moon turn ago haunted his dreams. Long gone were Jaime’s nightmares of Aerys. Now in Jaime’s dreams, he only saw Brienne swinging in a cool northern breeze.

As he pulled back, Brienne looked curiously at him.

“What?”

Brienne shrugged slightly; her face slightly amused. “I don’t have any memories of you without a beard. It’s just… different.”

_Seven hells. I hadn’t thought about that. Cersei said I looked best without a beard. Then again, she likely said that because without a beard, I looked more like her. Fuck._

“Does it look bad? I’ve only ever had a beard… well… around you, know that I think on it. You never allowed me a shave while dragging me about the Riverlands in chains. In the North, I thought my jaw might freeze and fall off without it. Miserable weather.”

Brienne considered the words and shrugged. “It doesn’t look bad. It’s just different. Either way looks good.”

Rubbing at his freshly shaven skin, Jaime quirked a smile. “I suppose I always did look rather homeless around you. That’s how Tyrion described it at least. I wanted to give the appearance of a noble homeless person for your arrival.”

“You’re hardly homeless. You live in this castle and have another one to your name.”

Jaime’s eyes fell at the words. He didn’t want Casterly Rock and had been happy to see it awarded to Tyrion, but he wondered if Brienne would be bothered by the decision. If Jaime could be lucky enough to marry her, he pondered if she would have preferred living there.

“I kind of disinherited myself. I asked Jon to give it to Tyrion and he did.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed at the words. “Why?”

“I never wanted to be lord. Particularly not if it meant a forced marriage to some boring lady of court. I much prefer a marriage with a female knight who knocks me around the yards of someone else’s castle. Do you care that I gave it up?”

Jaime bit his lip and glanced into Brienne’s eyes; afraid he might find disappointment there. With a snort, Brienne shook her head.

“Why would I care if you gave that up? Besides, I think I’m quite homeless too. I didn’t intentionally disinherit myself, but I believe I’ve accomplished just as much.”

Jaime’s hand came to Brienne’s cheek; his thumb brushing against her skin gently. “We can be homeless together then. Though, I do believe your father is quite hoping you’ll return home. I just wish to be wherever you are. You’re my home.”

**Brienne**

Jaime’s hand slipped into Brienne’s as he guided them towards the great hall. The touch was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Brienne feared others mocking Jaime for showing her affection.

She tried to remind herself of Jon’s words. Taking a steadying breath, Brienne repeated the commitment she made to herself.

_Just try to accept whatever he offers. Even if temporary, it will be nice to have experienced something akin to love. Certainly, the closest that I could ever hope for._

When they arrived at the hall, Brienne observed Tyrion, Bran, and Bronn sitting with Pod. Jon stood near the front of the room speaking with a large, redheaded man who was unfamiliar to Brienne. She did however recognize Ser Davos who stood at Jon’s side; his lips pressed into a firm line as he nodded several times while the redhead spoke.

At their entry, the redheaded man did a doubletake. With a strangled sob, he charged at Brienne and outstretched his arms. “My big woman!”

_My big woman? By the gods, who is this man? Do I know him?_

Brienne’s face betrayed her bewilderment. She felt Jaime’s arm tense as his hand tightened around hers. Leaning into her ear, Jaime spoke through gritted teeth.

“This is that wildling I warned you about in Volantis, Brienne. By the Seven, I will strangle him if you wish me to.”

Before Brienne could fully process the information, the giant man crashed into her. His arms wrapped tightly around her, and he sobbed against her.

“Those southern fucks! I would have killed them all myself! Fucking animals!”

As he stepped back from the embrace, Brienne watched a strained, nonverbal exchange between Jaime and the wildling.

Pulling the man’s attention back to her, Brienne spoke uncertainly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t recall your name.”

The man’s face fell at the words. With a sorrowful sigh, he met her eyes “Aye. The little crow told me that you’re fucked in the head.”

“She’s not fucked in the head!” Jaime growled at the man as he tugged Brienne close at his side; sliding his arm around her protectively.

Brienne’s eyes darted to Bran who was watching on in amusement. “Lord Bran told you? The uh… raven.”

The wildlings snorted and shook his head. “No. The crow!” He pointed back at Jon as though the answer obvious. The king lingered at the front of the room as he appeared to be giving Davos instructions.

_Gods. Why do all the men here fancy themselves birds?_

Abruptly, the wildling’s hands came to her arms. “Gods, you’re glorious! Like the crow, you beat death itself! I knew you were incredible. You should have been mine.”

The man’s eyes darted to Jaime. His nose flared in aner as he appraised Jaime. Brienne could feel the tension increase from moments earliest.

“Well she’s not. She prefers her men a bit less repugnant.” Jaime’s smile was cutting as he appraised the man. His fingers dug into Brienne’s hip possessively as she tried to understand what was going on.

“Aye. So why’s she with you? From what I hear, it’s you who got her killed.” The man’s chest bumped hard against Jaime and they continued to glare at one another.

Brienne tried to diffuse the situation, but it was Jon who called the man off from down the hall. “Tormund! Enough. We’ve spoken of this.”

Tormund backed away as Jon finished speaking with Davos and began to make his approach. The wildling spoke through gritted teeth in naught but a whisper. “I wouldn’t have left her in the snow crying, while claiming to run back to fuck me own sister.”

Letting go of Brienne with his left arm, Jaime’s golden hand wound back with intent to strike the man. So lost in the exchange was Brienne, that she had not noticed Bronn, Tyrion, and Pod approach.

At Jaime’s movements, Bronn and Pod were quickly pulling him backwards. The tension was overwhelming, and Brienne felt more confused than ever. As Jaime shrugged them off, Bronn stepped before Jaime and spoke warningly at Tormund.

“Careful now. I’ve seen that golden fist crack across a man’s jaw once before. Ya don’t want that. This here is Ser Jaime’s lady knight. They chose each other.”

Tormund narrowed his eyes and began to reply, but before he could finish speaking, Pod interrupted. “Enough Tormund. Ser Brienne makes her own decisions on who she means to be with. If Ser Jaime makes her happy, I’m honor bound to run my sword through any man trying to come between them.”

_Oh, Pod. I quite adore you._

An appreciative smile stretched across Brienne’s lips as she met Pod’s resolute eyes. Tormund guffawed and punched Pod playfully in the chest. “This one! Ya come a long way from the little boy getting knocked into the snow by my lady love. I like it!”

_Lady love? By the Seven, who is with this man?_

The man’s eyes trailed back to Brienne. He looked her up and down lasciviously; the act sparking something in Brienne.

_I know that look. I’ve seen it before. Bloody awful! Gods damnit Tormund!_

Brienne’s eyes went wide in realization before she groaned in exhaustion. Her face contorted in distaste as she appraised him. “Oh gods. Tormund. No! I’ve told you ‘no’ a thousand times.”

In response, Tormund’s eyes softened, and a wide smile spread across his face. “You do remember me!”

At Jon’s approach, everyone bowed in respect for their king, but Jon was focused on Tormund. Jaime stepped territorially between Brienne and Tormund; his chest heaving with anger. It was strange to see. Brienne did not recall Tormund and Jaime meeting or interacting previously.

The king spoke wearily as though it pained him to repeat words likely spoken earlier.

“I understand your concern and _regard_ for Ser Brienne, Tormund, but please, we’ve discussed this.”

With a resigned sigh, Tormund shrugged. “North of the Wall, we don’t leave a good woman like that. _I_ wouldn’t have left her like that.”

Jaime began to speak, but surprisingly it was Selwyn’s voice who spoke sternly from behind them.

“That is for my daughter and Ser Jaime to concern themselves with. I do believe that I just heard her say ‘no’ to you.”

Brienne turned and watched as her father moved into the hall. Despite his age, Selwyn still held a commanding presence. He bowed to Jon on approach. “Your grace.” As Selwyn’s eyes darted to Tormund, his brow rose in question. “You must be Tormund. I appreciate you bringing the prisoners to the city for justice.”

The wildling appeared awestruck by Brienne’s father. He spoke reverently as he appraised Selwyn. “Are ya a giant? I thought they only lived in the North with my people. Our North’s last giant died helping the crow win his little home back.”

Biting back a laugh, Brienne looked to the floor. She could practically hear her father’s eyes roll as he sighed heavily. “I am not a giant. My people are merely _tall_. Perhaps you’ve noticed that about my daughter.”

“Aye. She’s glorious! I had hoped she would be my woman. We could have made great monster babies that would conquer the world! Are ya sure ya don’t have giant’s blood in ya?”

With a snort, Selwyn shook his head. “Not unless Ser Duncan the Tall was secretly a giant. He was quite large; I’ll give you that. Made me look short.”

Brienne had known for much of her life the relation that her father spoke of. They kept her great-grandfather’s shield in the armory of Tarth, and she always enjoyed looking upon it as a child. At the words, Jaime’s jaw went slack. He glanced between the Tarths before turning to Brienne.

“You’re related to Ser Duncan the Tall!? You never told me this.”

Brienne was neither surprised nor unsurprised by the information. There was hardly a reason for her lineage to ever come up in conversation; for what she could recall. With a slight shrug, she met Jaime’s eyes. “Would there have been a reason?”

Before Jaime could question her father, Jon spoke to Selwyn. “I’ve sent Ser Davos to check on the prisoners. A few of them are in a bit of rough shape, and we seem to have lost one along the way.”

Jon’s eyes darted in accusation to Tormund. The man huffed and raised his arms as though they had covered the topic ad nauseam. “I told ya little crow, I didn’t like the way he spoke of my woman. They killed her and the mouthy one had to go!”

“That is quite the point of a trial, Tormund!” Jon’s frustration was building, but he smiled slightly when he looked at Brienne. Looking back at Tormund, Jon smirked. “Did you at least make it painful?”

The returning smile from Tormund was the most frightening and savage thing that Brienne had ever seen. “Aye. His little friends said nothing else for the rest of the journey here. I left pieces of their friend along the way as offering to the bears.”

At the words, Jaime hummed and appraised the wildling. “Good. I suppose you’re not too repugnant.”

Taking a step towards Jaime, Tormund tilted up his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Lets you and me have a competition. Lets see who can make them hurt the most for what they done to _Ser Brienne_.”


	19. Hateful and Lovable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne discuss the upcoming trial for the northern soldiers and Sansa.

**Jaime**

“No, Tormund didn’t love me. I’ve been around men in army encampments. I was just… there. It seems to be what men do with limited selection when celebrating.” Brienne’s voice was resigned as she again denied Tyrion’s assessment of Tormund’s affections for her.

It was obvious to Jaime that Brienne’s statement was intended to apply to _all_ men, including him. Jaime hated knowing it was his behavior that implanted the idea in her head.

Tyrion guffawed as he poured more wine for each of them. “Oh, no. He loves you. Current tense, Ser Brienne. At Winterfell, I thought my brother was going to explode with jealousy. It was fantastic.”

“It wasn’t fantastic. It was awful. It’s _still_ awful. Do you see the way he looks at her? It’s as though he wants to devour her.”

Jaime’s words only served to encourage Tyrion, as the younger Lannister threw back his head and laughed louder. Turning his attention to Brienne, Tyrion ignored Jaime’s outburst and continued.

“Truly. I hadn’t seen him _that_ jealous since Cersei wed that whoremonger Robert. Well thinking on it now, my brother was _much_ more jealous of Tormund than Robert.”

“Don’t talk about _her_. They’re not on the same level.”

Brienne’s lips pressed together and turned down slightly. A slight panic rose in Jaime’s chest at the realization that Brienne misinterpreted his words. For Jaime, there was no comparison. One was the love of his life, and the other a monster.

Whispering for Brienne’s ears only, Jaime tried to capture her attention. “You are much more than Cersei could ever be.”

With a barely audible sigh, Brienne shook her head. “I know what she was to you. You don’t need to downplay it on my behalf.”

Jaime’s eyes darted angrily to Tyrion.

_Why did he even bring up Cersei? He truly is of no help where it concerns Brienne. This is the second time his little wine parties have gotten me into trouble._

The mirth on Tyrion’s face died when he noted the anger in Jaime’s eyes. Leaning into Brienne’s ear, Jaime tried once more to ensure that she understood his feelings.

“I’m not downplaying it, Brienne.” Fumbling for her hand under the table, Jaime stared at the side of Brienne’s face. “I meant what I said. That relationship was toxic at best. I killed her to keep you safe, and I would do it again if I had to.”

Brienne shook her head. “You’re a good man, Ser Jaime. You killed her to keep King’s Landing safe. I’m truly sorry that you had to do it. It’s awful. Please, don’t lie about the truth of your heroics.”

“He’s not lying.” Tyrion’s voice was stern from across the table. The younger Lannister twirled the stem of his wine cup between his fingers before lifting his eyes to meet Brienne’s. “My brother had already watched Cersei use wildfire on King’s Landing by that point, and yet he stayed by her side.”

Jaime moved to protest, but Tyrion put up a hand. “Come now, Jaime. You could have left. Even if you didn’t love her then, you _still_ remained at her side.”

With a sigh, Tyrion leaned forward and stared at Brienne for a moment. “My entire life, I idolized my big brother. He was the only one who protected me from it all. The imp of Casterly Rock. My own father tried to have me killed. It was Jaime who saved me time and time again, and yet, Cersei was the only one he wouldn’t have waged war against for me. I resented him for it for some time. I never understood the hold she had over him.”

Jaime shook his head and stared down at the table. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but Tyrion wasn’t lying. Where it concerned Cersei, Jaime tried to play at middleman, but his love for Cersei always saw him more on her side than Tyrion’s.

_How did I not intercede more after Joffrey’s trial? I knew Tyrion was innocent, and yet I let Cersei go for his head._

Tyrion continued as Jaime felt the shame of the words set in.

“Then he came to Winterfell on little more than an pledge; or so I thought. Slowly, I started to see the true reason for his commitment to the living. It was you. I’ll admit that a part of me, while happy for him to have found _true_ love, was a bit bitter about it all. He would abandon Cersei for you, but not for me. He killed her for you, but not for me. Not for King’s Landing. Not for anything or anyone else. For you.”

Jaime winced. He had sacrificed his own name to save King’s Landing once, but when his sister became madder than Aerys, he let her live. The silence weighed heavy on Jaime as he glanced up at Tyrion.

“I’m sorry for it. I should have defended you more against her. I was pathetic, truly. Why I stayed by her side is beyond me. If it came down to it, I wouldn’t let her kill you. You must know that.”

With a slight shrug, Tyrion offered a small smile. “The important thing is that you are free of her. She stripped away the very essence of who you are for so long, and I feared for you. I worried you would die with her. I’m happy that it was Brienne all along who had your heart. Nothing made me happier than seeing you happy at Winterfell. I’m glad you have a chance at it again.”

Jaime’s hand tightened around Brienne’s. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but Brienne’s eyes bore a hole into her lap.

Trying to change the subject, Jaime met Tyrion’s eyes. “Will you be at the trial tomorrow?”

For some time, Jaime had wondered if Tyrion harbored feelings for Sansa. Tomorrow she would stand among the soldiers who killed Brienne. While Sansa’s crime was not the same as the soldiers, Jon wanted her present with her own judgement to follow.

“No. Why? Do you expect you will need advice from the Master of Coin?” Tyrion’s voice teased, but Jaime could sense the hurt beneath the surface.

“Do you have feelings for her?”

A bitter laugh pushed past Tyrion’s lips. “Truly? She killed my…” Tyrion bit his lip and withheld the rest of his thought, as his eyes darted to Brienne before settling back on Jaime.

“I thought Sansa a friend, and I _feel_ betrayed by her. She used me to further her little plot against Daenerys and _our_ House. She deprived you both of something important. I told you a moon turn ago how badly I wanted that for you. How badly I wanted to truly enjoy that alongside you both. Her actions cost Ser Brienne her life. I do not wish to attend, because I fear that I may strangle her myself.”

_Noted. Do not imply otherwise again._

Tyrion sighed and took a long sip of his wine. “So, who will preside over the trial of the soldiers and Sansa?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Jaime’s lips. “Myself, Lord Selwyn, and Ser Pod. King Jon has recused himself.”

Tyrion snorted and shook his head. “Good. An impartial jury. Three men who love Ser Brienne for different reason. Romantic love. Fatherly love. Kinship love.”

“Well when you put it like that, it feels slightly biased.” Jaime could barely control his laughter, but he felt Brienne flinch beside him. Turning his head towards Brienne, Jaime’s brows furrowed. “What’s wrong? Are you worried we’ll let the men walk free?”

“I don’t like what Tormund mentioned in the hall. The men should not be tortured if proven guilty.”

Jaime’s brows rose to his hairline. “What!? _If_ found guilty? You do recall that Jon and I brought your dead body to Volantis? They deserve the worst, and I intend to carry out their judgement myself.”

With a sigh, Brienne closed her eyes. “I don’t want anyone to do what Tormund has already done to one of the men. It’s awful.”

For a moment, Jaime forgot that Tyrion was there. He turned his body to face Brienne, and tugged her hand into his lap.

“Brienne. They murdered you for no reason. You did them no harm.”

Brienne shrugged slightly; her face scrunching in discomfort. “It just seems cruel to torture them.”

“What they did was hateful, and I’ll return it to them.”

At Jaime’s words, Brienne stiffened. She grimaced and withdrew her hand quickly. Forcing a smile, she stood from her seat and nodded at both brothers. “I’m quite tired now. I’ll see you both on the morrow.”

_What’s going on? What’s wrong?_

Moving quickly from his seat, Jaime left Tyrion alone in the small room they had been in since supper ended some hours ago.

“Brienne. Brienne, please, wait. What’s wrong?” Chasing Brienne into the hallway, Jaime caught up and grabbed her arm.

Shaking her head, Brienne’s eyes roamed the hallway as though she didn’t wish for anyone to come upon their exchange. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“I know you better than that, Brienne. What did I say?” Jaime reached for her cheek, but Brienne flinched away.

A slight desperation crept in, as Jaime tried to find the answer in Brienne’s eyes. “Please. Talk to me, Brienne. Why have I upset you?”

Brienne closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “It’s just the way you spoke in there. I was reminded of something.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. He thought back on the conversation and tried to pinpoint what he or Tyrion said that could have caused a memory to stir in Brienne.

As she opened her eyes to meet his, Jaime felt his breathing falter at the pain he saw on her face.

“She’s hateful and so am I.”

**Brienne**

The first thing Brienne felt was pain. It was as though someone had taken a knife to her heart and torn it out. A reminder of how worthless her love was, for it could never be returned.

The second thing Brienne felt was worry. She remembered the list of hateful deeds that Jaime claimed to have done for Cersei. Brienne had no desire for hateful deeds to be committed in her name.

As the words washed over Jaime, Brienne watched his face pale. He shook his head and reached out for her, but Brienne needed space; not touch. It had already been an overwhelming day, and this was not helping.

Against her better judgement, Brienne had admitted to her love for Jaime. The acknowledgement of it felt something owed to the man pouring his heart out to her and claiming to love her. While she struggled to accept his love, she couldn’t bear to see him give it so freely without an admission on her part.

Further, Brienne wanted to be honest. She had hidden her love for Renly, and when Jaime told her that the young Baratheon was dead, Brienne’s heart broke. While his love would never have been returned, she felt upset that she had never once told him; even if it meant hearing his laughter or facing his rejection.

Brienne had committed to not hiding her feelings for Jaime as she had Renly. Of course, she also recognized the depth of her feelings for Jaime far surpassed the youthful love she once felt for Renly.

Having already died once, Brienne did not wish to face death or see Jaime face death without admitting to the truth of it. Standing before Jaime now, Brienne was reminded once more of how death would have been more favorable to Jaime than living with her. She was reminded of the hateful deeds that Jaime was willing to commit for others.

“Brienne, I’m sorry that I hurt you by leaving the way that I did. I wanted to stay more than you know. I admitted to all those horrible deeds I’ve committed to prevent you from following me to death. Do you remember all of it? The entire conversation in the courtyard?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne looked to the floor. Jaime’s hand grabbed hers and pulled her down the hallway. “Let me explain, but not in the middle of a corridor.”

_Do I even want to hear this? I would much rather go to bed and consider this all a terrible dream._

Abruptly, Jaime stopped his progress towards the rooms. His face fell slightly as he struggled with something. “I uh… I don’t want anyone to think that I’m being dishonorable. Mayhap we should go outside.”

_Yes, of course. Because I’m just the Kingslayer’s Whore. Why else would he drag me into a room alone?_

Pulling her hand from his, Brienne laced her fingers together and nodded. “I can walk. I know the way outside.”

A wordless apology flashed across Jaime’s face as they walked towards the gardens. When they stepped outside, Brienne appraised the area. It was a cloudless night and she could see all the stars. Flickering torchlight lined the path towards seating at the edge of the gardens.

Brienne and Jaime walked in silence towards the first bench. Given the hour, there was no one else outside, but it mattered little to Brienne. Whether with one person or one hundred, she always felt alone. Unloved and unseen.

_For Cersei. She’s hateful and so am I._

Brienne didn’t want, nor need, to remember anything else from that conversation. That summed up the feeling in her heart when the memory flickered like a spark trying to catch.

When they reached the bench, Jaime waited for Brienne to sit before taking a seat beside her. She glanced down the garden path. In the distance, the faintest torchlight shone near the port. The thought of the port reminded Brienne of her journey to King’s Landing.

She had been nervous the entire way. It was not a planned speech that she delivered to Jaime on the docks, but one that she was glad to get out of the way immediately. Now as he sat pressed against her left side, Brienne took a deep breath and tried to remind herself to be open to whatever he had to say.

“I sat at that fire in our… your room… for longer than I should have the night I left. After you fell asleep, I didn’t want to go. I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth of my feelings for you, but I also knew it would do no good. If I was honest, you likely would have followed me. The only way to ensure you didn’t was to break your heart, but I didn’t have the courage to do that either.”

Brienne could feel Jaime staring at her. Refusing to meet his eyes, she looked resolutely ahead and listened.

“I left in the middle of the night to avoid it all, but of course, you followed. You were a light sleeper in the Riverlands too. I suppose that much has never changed.”

Jaime huffed a laugh and from the corner of her eye, Brienne could see him smile.

He thinks it’s my nature. Little does he realize it was a necessity born out of the hard truths of what I am. Of my situation.

“I wasn’t always a light sleeper. I had to become one to survive and avoid rape.”

The words succeeded in removing Jaime’s teasing eyes from her face. After a moment’s pause, Jaime continued.

“The first thing you said to me was ‘They’re going to burn that city to the ground.’ I don’t know what I was expecting really, but it wasn’t that. I suppose I thought you would berate me for being such a shit person that I couldn’t even say goodbye. That I would leave you dishonored and alone. Instead, you spoke about the state of the city and my bloody safety.”

Brienne didn’t recall saying the words, but she wasn’t surprised. She would have wanted Jaime to live, even if it meant away from her. Her love could never be selfish or conditional. When she loved someone, it was with all of her; even at a detriment to her.

“I asked you if you had ever run from a fight. I slipped a bit. I didn’t intend to tell you that I was joining the fight against the enemy; against Cersei. Fortunately, I didn’t specify the enemy. You seemed to think the opposite though. You assumed that I was going back to her. You said, ‘You’re not like her. You’re not. You’re a good man.’ It hurt to hear your assumption about my intent, but… I let you think it. Then I fed the lie by reciting all the shit that I’ve done for Cersei. I _hated_ myself for it, but I thought it would ensure your safety. My intent was to kill her and, if possible, return to you. In truth, I knew it was unlikely that I would survive.”

Jaime rubbed his face aggressively in obvious frustration.

“It’s true though. I had done horrible things for Cersei. I was hateful, just like her. I didn’t want to be hateful anymore, however. You reminded me of who I thought I was once. Of who I wanted to be. The boy who saved King’s Landing from wildfire wasn’t hateful. I wanted to be him again. I told you some hateful things that I did do for Cersei, but I didn’t tell you the things that I did for you.”

Feeling daring, Brienne glanced at Jaime. His eyes mirrored the words he spoke.

“I told you that I pushed a boy from a window for _Cersei_ , but I also rode alone into an enemy encampment to defend that boy, his family, and his home from death itself, for _you_. I told you that I killed my own cousin to get back to _Cersei_ , but I also jumped into a bear pit to get back to _you_. I lied and told you that I would have killed every man, woman, and child at Riverrun for _Cersei_ , but instead I defied the crown and took the castle peacefully for _you_. Had I not met you, I likely would have died a man that I am not nor that I wanted to be; a hateful man. It doesn’t excuse the hurt that I caused you. That is the only hateful thing that I’ve done since falling in love with you.”

It felt as though Brienne had swallowed a rock. Her throat constricted and her breath was taken away. As his left hand came to her cheek, Brienne felt Jaime’s thumb caress her skin. He leaned in slowly and pressed a gentle kiss to Brienne’s lips.

The contact sent Brienne spiraling. As if on instinct, her hands cupped his cheeks in return which only served to encourage Jaime. He shifted closer as his right arm moved across the back of the bench and around her shoulders. The kiss deepened, and Brienne felt Jaime’s tongue moving gently against her lips.

It was a familiar sensation that prompted Brienne’s lips to part. Everything about the kiss felt natural and acquainted. Brienne imagined it would be no different if she had gone years without a sword in hand. When she next picked up a blade, her body would simply know what to do.

As Brienne returned the kiss, the atmosphere shifted. Jaime’s hand lowered to her side and his thumb continued to rub against her body, just below her breast. Abruptly, Jaime broke the kiss and grimaced as he adjusted his breeches.

“Seven hells. Your father warned me to behave or I’ll join the ranks of the Unsullied.”

“Who are the Unsullied?” As Brienne spoke, her eyes struggled to look at anything other than Jaime’s lips. She wished for nothing more than to return to kissing rather than speaking of these unknown Unsullied. 

Pulling back slightly to meet her eyes, a smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips. “We fought with them at Winterfell. An army of eunuch men from across the Narrow Sea. Vicious fighters. I suppose I would be angry too…”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. “That’s awful! Those poor men.”

“Yes, well I would rather that doesn’t become _poor me_.” Jaime’s lips trailed kisses across Brienne’s jaw and to her ear.

Memories of the night she awoke to Jaime inside her came to the forefront of Brienne’s mind. An inexplicable ache for him pooled in her core as her eyes darted to the bulge in his breeches.

A blush spread across Brienne’s cheeks as she quickly looked away. Brienne reprimanded herself for her wanton thoughts and behavior. She began to question if the moniker the men bestowed upon her wasn’t of her own making.

Trying to change the topic, Brienne shifted back and cleared her throat. “You’re not going to follow through on Tormund’s ridiculous plans, are you?”

Jaime’s brows furrowed slightly. With a deep sigh, he looked away. “I hate those men. They killed you, and I want them to suffer. Just as I love you deeply, I can hate deeply.”

Brienne closed her eyes and exhaled. “I don’t want hateful acts committed in my name.”

“They beat you and strung you up for all to see. They put a sign around your neck to declare you… I’m certain you can imagine. We cut your body down from a tree, Brienne. I’ll never forget the image of you swaying in the breeze, nor the feeling of your cold, lifeless body in my arms. I want to make them suffer for what they did to you.”

With a grimace, Brienne looked to her hands. “Is death truly not enough? I thought you no longer wished to do hateful things?”

“Death is not enough for those men, Brienne. And yes, I don’t wish to do hateful things, but killing those men is not hateful. A hateful act is pushing an innocent boy from a window or smashing my innocent cousin over the head with a rock. A hateful act is threatening to catapult innocents into a castle wall. Punishing a hateful act with death it not hateful. It is justice. You know the knight’s code, Brienne. I charged you to be just.”

Jaime’s eyes were resolute as he spoke, but then they softened as he looked deep into Brienne’s eyes. “But… I will recuse myself as Jon is. He doesn’t feel it appropriate to participate in Sansa’s trial. I suppose it isn’t appropriate for me to participate either. I swear though Brienne, if any of them are foolish enough to ask for a trial by combat, I will fight them myself. I will not make it quick.”

Looking into Jaime’s eyes, Brienne saw immense pain there. She struggled to accept that her death could elicit such strong emotional reaction from anyone. With a nod, she agreed.

“You’re not hateful. You’re a good man. I don’t want wish for more hateful deeds hanging over you that you’ll later come to regret, just as you regret the actions committed for Cersei.”

A momentary silence settled over them before Brienne felt Jaime’s hand at her cheek once more. “I’ll never regret any action for you. The love that I feel for you is pure and true; not toxic and hateful as what I felt for Cersei. You keep saying that I’m not hateful and that I’m a good man, though. Why?”

Brienne startled slightly. Her brows knitted as her eyes questioned Jaime. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so adamant about it. Even when you remembered everything about me, you built up this image of me that I was a good man because I did one decent thing for King’s Landing.”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne stammered. “It’s not just that. You lost a hand protecting me, your captor, when you had no reason to. You jumped into a bear pit for me. You gave me my sword to find and protect Sansa because you swore an oath to her mother; your enemy. You just told me that you took Riverrun peacefully when you were told to use force. You kept your pledge to fight for the living. Hateful people wouldn’t do those things. You’re a good man, even if you’ve erred along the way.”

A smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he questioned her. “So it’s fairly subjective then? Other people might think me hateful, either because they don’t know me as well as you, or they judge my worst sins irredeemable.”

Brienne considered the words. Conceding the point, she nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Raise a challenging brow, Jaime stared into Brienne’s eyes. “So if I insisted that I was hateful, you wouldn’t believe me?”

“Of course not! Just as I told you that night, you’re a good man whether you see it or not.”

The hint of a smile tugging at Jamie’s lips stretched wide. “Well it’s settled then. If being hateful is subjective, so is being lovable. I know you quite well. I know of your greatest deeds. Your loyalty, honor, and resolve. I’ve loved you for many years. To me, you are only lovable. You can tell me you’re not lovable all you want, but I see the truth. I know that you are.”


	20. Appointments and Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Sansa's trial arrives. She is in for a few surprises.

**Sansa**

Sansa was dragged from the cells by two burly guards she didn’t recognize. As they stepped into the dimly lit hallway, her eyes fell on Bronn. She remembered the sellsword in Tyrion’s employ from many years ago in King’s Landing.

It was the same sellsword who trailed an enraged Jaime into the dragonpit over a moon turn ago. The man’s expression was deadly as his eyes met hers. “Time for ya judgement, princess.”

As she was tugged around a corner, Sansa’s eyes went wide at the sight of the Bolton soldiers standing in a line before her. Each was flanked by a Gold Cloak at each side.

When Brienne had visited Sansa’s cell a moon turn ago, Sansa took a gamble. She gambled on Brienne’s inability to remember. It surprised Sansa at first to realize that Brienne had lost all her memories. Then she remembered a conversation with Bran not long ago.

Jon had behaved strangely since his death at the hands of his sworn brothers. He seemed unmotivated and despondent. When Bran returned to Winterfell, Sansa spoke in private about Jon’s behavior and attitude.

_“Jon seems… off. He doesn’t seem to want for anything, and he is even more morose than usual.”_

Bran had looked at Sansa appraisingly. It was as though his eyes could see to the depths of her soul. Whatever her little brother had become, it unnerved Sansa. He felt less her kin and more a stranger.

_“Death changed him in a way. When people are raised by red priests or priestesses, it can alter them. They can forget themselves entirely, or they can long only for the last thing that came to mind before the Stranger’s hands touched them.”_

Sansa’s brows had furrowed at the words. _“Will he ever be the same again? When people come back, can they regain their memories, or want for anything other than that last thought?”_

With a sigh, Bran shook his head in refute. _“I’ve yet to see such a thing and I’ve searched for quite some time. Trust me. We need Jon to become the man he was before.”_

It all came crashing to the forefront of Sansa’s mind when Brienne came to her cell. A way out. She gambled that her pathetic, former sworn sword would follow through on her word to get Sansa out. It was all that she remembered, so surely it was all that Brienne longed for.

_She likely died regretting having betrayed me. That is why she visited. That is why she only remembers me._

Lying was never something that Brienne was capable of nor good at. Her eyes were honest, even if she lacked the wit to understand her own betrayal. Brienne was also someone who believed in honor and oaths above all things. It was another thing that Sansa planned to use against her.

As they were led up several levels of the Keep and towards the throne room, Sansa’s eyes struggled to adjust to the increasing light. She had been well-fed in the cells, but the area was dark and damp. The cot they brought her was uncomfortable to rest on while chained to a wall, and the scurrying of mice was hardly acceptable.

_They’ve all betrayed me. Even my own kin. They left me to rot in such filthy accommodations. I should have been afforded a confinement befitting my station._

Sansa had not sat idle in the cell. Using the information gained of Brienne’s limited memory, Sansa devised a plan. She knew this day would come and they were merely waiting to have her trial when Brienne’s killers were brought to the city.

_She promised to protect me always, but she betrayed me for the Kingslayer. Fool that she was. Look at the good it did her. These men killed her because of him, not me. I didn’t order this._

The guards spoke of the looming trial often, and they seemed excited for justice to be served. Their enthusiasm disgusted Sansa. She failed to see how anything about the situation was just.

_I protected my House and ensured our enemies were vanquished. They seek to support my traitor of a sworn sword and her lying Kingslayer. I can’t wait to see her face when she stands alone in the throne room. By this point, it’s likely the Kingslayer has a proper lady on his arm, if not his sister’s rotting carcass. Let Brienne see that she has abandoned me for his pretty lies and false smiles._

They were soon lined up outside the throne room and awaited instruction to enter. When the doors opened and Sansa was tugged inside, she was shocked at how crowded the hall was.

_Gods. This is more densely packed than a coronation. Is something else happening today? Surely they don’t care about some whorish traitor of a woman and the Kingslayer._

At the front of the room, Jon sat on the throne with Jaime standing tall at his side. They were both well-dressed, freshly bathed, and regal looking. Sansa had never seen Jon looking so kempt.

The Kingslayer was obnoxiously handsome as ever, and Sansa hated him for it. He appeared freshly shaven with shorter hair than he had at Winterfell. It still seemed absurd to Sansa that a man such as him was able to bed a woman like Brienne. Then Sansa’s eyes went wide.

_Why is the Kingslayer wearing the pin of the Hand!?_

Walking down the aisle, Sansa scanned the room. Nearly all assembled were soldiers that had fought against the dead. There was a large group she didn’t recognize, but she knew the sigil on their chests. Tarth.

As they neared the front of the room, several of the men to stand trial shuddered in fear and stumbled backwards. The man in front of Sansa stepped on her foot which elicited a loud yelp from her mouth. They whispered between themselves as their eyes stared to the left.

“Fuckin’ hells. Thought we killed the bitch.” “What the fuck is she doin’ here?”

After reprimanding the dolt in front of her, Sansa looked to the left. Sitting on a small platform to the left of the throne, Brienne and her father sat quietly looking on. Selwyn sat at his daughter’s righthand side; his eyes angrily appraised the group of chained prisoners.

The guards pulled them all forward to the first row on the left-hand side of the hall. It afforded them an unobstructed view of the Tarths, who sat above them as though royalty.

_Absurd. She could never be above me. I should be seated up there. No. I should have a crown on my head and sit in the North; not down here in this shit city in chains._

With the prisoners in place, Jon stood from the throne and assessed the group before addressing the hall.

“I welcome you all here today. I lament that we could not admit everyone into the throne room seeking view. We knew that Ser Brienne was popular, but we had not anticipated just how popular.”

A smile stretched across Jon’s face as he paused to glance at Brienne. Much of the hall clapped or whistled as shouts of “Ser Brienne!” filled the throne room. Dueling shades of red spread across the faces of Brienne and Sansa; one in embarrassment and the other in rage.

The obnoxiously soft look on the Kingslayer’s face did not go unnoticed by Sansa. When Brienne met his eyes, the Kingslayer’s expression shifted. He stared openly at Brienne as though no one else was in the room.

_Gods. He continues the game even still. How desperate is he to see to House Stark’s demise?_

Sansa muttered under her breath before studying her sworn sword once more. Just as she appeared in the cells, Brienne was less confident and commanding than usual. It was as though a part of her had remained dead when the Bolton soldiers took her life.

_Let that be her punishment. A realization for what she truly is; a disloyal whore. The Kingslayer’s Whore. She did this to herself. Now she is a shell of what she once was._

As the thought came into her head, a small part of Sansa cried out from within.

_She was your friend. Your savior._

Stuffing the thought down, Sansa shook her head and inwardly cursed herself for allowing such weak thoughts to enter her mind. It was the vestiges of the innocent maiden within. The girl tortured by Joffrey and Cersei. Betrayed by Littlefinger. Devoured by Ramsay. The little bird who still wanted to believe in fairytales.

_Fool that I was. She betrayed you for a Lannister. For him. Cersei’s twin and lover._

As the crowd quieted, Jon continued. “Today we are to hold trial for the injustice committed against Ser Brienne. Let me start by making some things very clear to all assembled. Before I became king of the Seven Kingdoms, I was king in the North, and I erred greatly. Were it not for Ser Brienne, Winterfell would have remained in House Bolton’s hands. I fear that without House Stark’s leadership against the dead, the living would have lost. None of us would be standing here today had Ser Brienne not saved my cousin, Sansa Stark. I certainly would not have led a battle to reclaim Winterfell. Somehow, despite Ser Brienne’s efforts, I did not knight her. It took a falsely judged man that we in the North thought an enemy, to take action where I failed.”

Looking back at Brienne, Jon smiled before continuing. “These men who are to stand trial, tried to question her title as a knight. They acted as though it had not been earned. How many among you would agree?”

The hall remained silent as Sansa bit back a laugh.

_He can’t be serious. This must be a jape or purely out of pity._

Glancing behind her, Sansa saw the stern expressions on the faces of those assembled. Turning back towards Jon, Sansa saw him nod to Jaime. Without a word, Jaime moved to the base of the stairs and reached out a hand towards one of the Kingsguard. The knight handed the Kingslayer a large, white book, and Jaime returned to Jon with it.

Jon took the book and held it above his head. “I think we all know of the White Book; the Book of Brothers. It is the job of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to fill out these pages, detailing the deeds of the Kingsguard. Unfortunately, my Kingsguard currently lacks a Lord Commander. Luckily, my Lord Hand was the last active Lord Commander, serving King Tommen Baratheon. We made an exception, and at Ser Jaime’s request, he has added an entry for someone who recently accepted a position on the Kinsguard.”

Jon opened the book and flipped to a bookmarked page. Taking a deep breath, he began to read the entry.

“Ser Brienne of Tarth. Served Lord Renly Baratheon honorably during the War of the Five Kings. Competed in and won the melee of Bitterbridge to earn a place on Lord Renly’s Rainbow Guard. Became the sworn sword of Lady Catelyn Stark. Tasked with returning Ser Jaime Lannister to King’s Landing in a prisoner exchange for Lady Arya Stark and Sansa Stark. Upon the safe return of Ser Jaime to King’s Landing, she was dispatched to find the missing Stark sisters and return them home to fulfil the oath made to Lady Catelyn Stark. Confronted and defeated the Hound, Sandor Clegane, in single combat during her effort to return Lady Arya Stark to Winterfell. Found and saved Sansa Stark from her torture at the hands of House Bolton; thereby ensuring House Stark was able to reclaim Winterfell and the North. Acted as representative for the North at the summit in King’s Landing to unify the living in defense against the dead. Knighted by Ser Jaime Lannister on the eve of battle, making her the first female knight in the Seven Kingdoms. Led the left flank bravely in battle against the army of the dead.”

Sansa stood slack jawed. Her eyes moved from Jon to Brienne. Brienne’s face was impossibly redder as she sat in disbelief beside her father. Both Selwyn and the Kingslayer appeared poised to explode with pride as they looked upon her.

Jon’s voice brought Sansa’s attention back to him. “There is one entry that I’ve asked Ser Jaime to add, if Ser Brienne does me the honor. I would prefer that the page include, ‘Named the first Lady Commander of the Kingsguard under King Aegon Targaryen, known as King Jon, in 305AC.’ She has yet to give me an answer, but she did accept a role on the Kingsguard. I do believe it would be the best decision that I’ve made yet if she agrees. What say you?”

Somehow the cheers that followed were impossibly louder than before. It felt as though the walls and ceiling may cave in as Sansa felt the shouts of those assembled vibrate in her chest. Jon’s eyes moved to Brienne and he shrugged in question.

With a nearly imperceptible nod, Brienne accepted the position. Jon waved her over eagerly as the excitement in the room became palpable. When Brienne reached Jon, she gripped the hilt of her sword nervously; a tell that Sansa had come to recognize over the years.

Jon called for quiet as Jaime stepped forward with a wide smile on his face. A whispered exchange between Jaime and Brienne preceded Jaime’s words to both Brienne and those assembled.

“Ser Brienne Tarth of King Aegon Targaryen’s Kingsguard, please kneel.”

Brienne kneeled before Jon as Jaime spoke loudly.

“Dow you vow to serve loyally and honorably as Lady Commander of King Aegon Targaryen’s Kingsguard for as long as you chose, and so long as nothing is asked of you that my compromise your honor and oaths as a knight?”

_What? This is new. Did they change the vows? I remember the Kingslayer being named Lord Commander after Ser Barristan and those are not the words._

“I swear it.” Brienne’s voice replied shakily to Jaime’s question before he continued. The words then sounded more familiar to Sansa, but still adjusted.

“Do you vow to protect the king from harm? To obey his commands, keep his secrets, offer him counsel, and to defend his name and honor; so long as the actions requested do not betray your duties first as a knight?”

“I swear it.” Brienne’s voice was stronger the second time as she looked at Jon.

Jon smiled warmly and nodded to her. The last vow was certainly one that Sansa did not recognize, and she was shocked by it.

“Do you vow to oversee your sworn brothers. To protect them, any wives or husbands they may take, and any children they may bear, to the best of your ability as long as it does not conflict with protecting the king first and foremost?”

“I swear it.” Brienne’s voice sounded more confident; like the woman who served Sansa at Winterfell.

Signaling to Brienne that she could rise, Jaime smiled widely as he stared longingly at Brienne. As she rose, the crowd erupted once more. Sansa watched Jon approached Brienne; speaking in hushed tones as a smile stretched across his face.

A slight mist touched Sansa’s eyes at the scene playing out before her. The small voice inside Sansa called out in admiration of the woman who once meant so much to her, but was now little more than a stranger. Sansa’s lips pressed into a thin line as she closed her eyes and tilted her head towards the floor.

_Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it! Weak. Pathetic. Just like Brienne. It should have been you she swore such vows to. You should be queen in the North. Jon will fail at this as he has failed elsewhere. His own brothers at the Wall killed him just as Brienne’s fellow soldiers killed her. They will fail together. The Kingslayer is likely to be their demise._

Opening her eyes with new resolve writ across her face, Sansa watched as Brienne walked back to her seat. Selwyn pulled her into a firm hug, and Sansa nearly broke once more. It reminded her of the father she lost.

_My father. The man House Lannister killed. She sides with my enemy and has her father because of it. They stole mine from me._

Jon’s voice echoed off the walls of the throne room as Brienne sat down. “I, Jon, king of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm, do hereby recuse myself from the trial about to take place. My Lord Hand will oversee the proceedings. Any decisions or rulings that he makes or affords to another will be backed by the crown.”

Without another word, Jon walked down the steps. His eyes quickly darted to Sansa, but he turned and left the side exit of the hall before Sansa could read his expression.

Jaime stood atop the stairs while attendants placed chairs to the left and right of the throne.

At the realization that her trial would be overseen by the Kingslayer, Sansa felt a deep dread pool in her core.

“To ensure a fair trial, I recuse myself, but will pass down judgement as decided upon by a more impartial jury. I will serve as the crown’s champion should any of our prisoners prefer a trial by combat. In my stead, Northern justice will be dispensed to Northern prisoners.”

A knowing smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he looked to his right. Emerging from a pillar at the balcony, Arya came into view. A ray of hope flashed in Sansa’s heart as her sister stepped forward. Jaime’s voice drew Sansa’s attention forward.

“Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell will officiate the trial. To aid her deliberation, we have called upon three jurors from three different kingdoms. Lord Selwyn Tarth, Lord of Tarth and liege Lord of the Stormlands…”

At Jaime’s words, Sansa’s eyes went wide.

_No. That’s not fair! That is not impartial!_

“…Ser Podrick of House Payne; vassal to the West…”

_Are you kidding me!?_

“…and Tormund Giantsbane of House Giant’s Milk or something like that; constituent from the far North…”

“The _true_ North! Southern fucks.” Tormund grumbled and stormed forward from the crowd with a vicious smirk on his face. The men gathered around the hall chuckled lightly at the exchange between their Lord Hand and the Wildling leader.”

_This is not fair! They’ll slaughter us all!_

Sansa watched in horror as the four summoned to the raised dais took their seats. Sitting on the throne, Arya smiled like a cat who caught a mouse. The Kingslayer nodded at Arya before walking to take Selwyn’s vacated seat beside Brienne. When he sat down, his hand reached for Brienne’s as he mooned over her from barely a foot away. Hate pooled in her core at the sight. It was time for Sansa’s plan.

“I demand a trial by combat!” The words were out of Sansa’s mouth before the trial could begin.

At her words, gasps erupted around the hall. An amused smile tugged at Arya’s lips, but the expression of excited potential flashing across the Kingslayer’s face did not go unnoticed.

Arya tilted her head at Sansa’s outburst. “Perhaps you would prefer to hear your accused crimes before calling for such a trial. You do realize that the crown’s champion would be our Lord Hand, Ser Jaime, correct?”

“And I would name my champion, of course. My sworn sword… Ser Brienne. She was sworn to protect me. An oath she made to my mother. Sacred vows she swore to me. A promise she made me a moon turn ago.”

Sansa raised a brow at Brienne who sat slack jawed next to Jaime. For his part, the Kingslayer’s face went from excited to irate.

_Yes, that’s correct. I’ll make you attempt to kill the woman you pretend at loving. Of course, you’ll lose. She already beat you once on a bridge. This is working out too perfectly. I’ll live. The Kingslayer will die. Brienne will receive her newest form of punishment._

Jaime desperately tried to speak in hushed tones to Brienne, but the female knight put up a hand to silence him. At the action, Sansa felt victory begin to course through her veins, as she lifted her chin towards the Kingslayer and his whore.

Brienne stood and swallowed thickly before meeting Sansa’s eyes. Tilting her head up slightly, Sansa’s brows knitted as she saw something spark in Brienne’s innocent eyes.

“You have the right of it. I swore vows as your sworn sword. I vowed to shield your back, and keep your counsel, and give my life for yours if need be. I swore it by the old gods and the new.”

Sansa smirked as she watched Jaime look on in horror. To their side, Selwyn flinched in his seat and began to stand, but Brienne spoke once more.

“And you vowed that I shall always have a place by your hearth, and meat and mead at your table. You pledged to ask no service of me that may bring me dishonor. You swore it by the old gods and the new.”

Speaking more confidently than before, Brienne tilted up her chin; a surprising resolve in her eyes.

“You cast me away from your heath, and you refused me food from your table to ensure my safe travels. You deprived me supplies for the journey south and offered only _tea_. I do believe that I’ve already given my life for yours; it was given while following your commands, despite being grossly unprepared to carry out the orders. By asking me to champion you, you would bring me dishonor. It would dishonor the _life lost_ to defend you in trial by combat. I am very sorry, Sansa Stark, but I cannot be your champion.”

A slow forming smile stretched across Jaime’s face at the words and Selwyn exhaled audibly as he sagged into his chair. Pod, Tormund, and Arya smirked as Sansa felt herself falling into a pit from which she could not escape.

Arya’s voice called out to Sansa once more. “I’ll ask you again, Sansa Stark. Would you like to hear the crimes for which you stand accused before decide if you prefer a trial by combat?”


	21. Assessments and Judgements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's trial concludes and decisions made.

**Brienne**

Brienne’s heart was hammering in her chest after she sat down form denying Sansa’s request. The room around her seemed to fade away as she stared at her clasped hands resting in her lap. Her eyes caught the lion pendant around her neck; a necessary reminder of why she could never again champion the young woman standing among her killers.

It wasn’t until Jaime’s hand reached for hers that Brienne was reminded of where she was. Leaning into her ear, Jaime whispered as his thumb rubbed across her knuckles.

“I’m proud of you. Our babe would be too.”

_Our babe._

The idea that a babe once grew healthy in her womb still seemed unreal to Brienne. Almost as unreal as Jaime’s insistence that he loved her. There were some mornings over the past moon where Brienne awoke with a lingering sensation. A loss that she couldn’t explain. It was as though she was trying to chase the vestiges of a dream that faded too quickly to recall in periods of wakefulness.

To her left, Arya spoke once more.

“And as to the crimes for which Sansa Stark stands accused. You are accused of treason against your king. You stand accused of conspiracy. You stand accused of murder. How do you answer these crimes?”

Brienne’s eyes lifted to Sansa. The young woman stood tall beside the Bolton soldiers; her chin tilted defiantly.

“I committed those acts in service to my House. _Our_ House. House Stark. Were it not for me, House Stark would no longer exist.”

Jaime’s hand tightened around Brienne’s. His anger was palpable as he glared at Sansa with narrowed eyes. From the throne, Arya leaned forward and spoke with amusement.

“Odd. I do believe that I’m alive. I don’t recall taking the Night King’s face when I ended him; only his otherworldly existence. Bran… are you still drawing breath over there?”

Tucked into the righthand corner of the throne room and nearly imperceptible from beside the large column, Bran’s voice rang out clear for all to hear.

“I still breathe. I’m not certain that I can walk, however.”

A slight chuckle erupted from around the hall. When Brienne glanced back at Sansa, she saw rage simmering below the surface.

“That is _not_ what I meant. Neither of you would have had a home to return to were it not for me.”

Arya spoke quickly in correction. “Oh. Apologies, sister. I was not there to see Winterfell reclaimed. All this time, I assumed there was a battle. Little did I know that you singlehandedly drove out House Bolton. Now if you’re about done, we merely needed to hear your answer to the charges. Your trial will follow the trial of the men at your side.”

The soldiers’ trial was straightforward and quick. One of the eleven men standing trial demanded a trial by combat, and Brienne thought that Jaime may jump for joy. Arya seemed all too eager to grant the request.

"Any other takers?"

The men’s eyes darted to Jaime and back to their friend. Shaking their head in refute, the man who requested trial by combat seemed to think better of the request, but it was too late.

There had been no need for the jurors to step out for deliberation. Their verdict was on the tip of their tongues before the farce of a trial got underway.

Arya looked first to Selwyn. “Lord Selwyn, what say you?”

“Guilty.”

Beside Selwyn sat Pod. The young man had been quietly fuming throughout the proceedings as he appraised the men.

Glancing to Pod, Arya raised a brow. “Ser Podrick, what say you?”

“Guilty.”

To Arya’s left, Tormund sat licking his chops. The Wildling looked ready to carve up the men and eat them for supper. Biting back a laugh, Arya looked to redheaded warrior.

“Tormund, what say you?”

“Fucking cowards. The lot of them. Guilty.”

With a wolfish smile, Arya settled back into her chair. She seemed to consider the men for a moment before turning towards Jaime.

“Lord Hand, it would seem we have a unanimous ruling. I too find these men guilty. As these are Northern men, and a pitiful excuse at that, I would request Northern justice. House Stark believes that whoever passes the judgement, should swing the blade. I would ask to prescribe the method of execution and carry it out myself.”

Brienne’s eyes darted to Jaime. She fretted over what Arya may have in mind, but Jaime seemed more than pleased to oblige her request.

“Who am I to stand in the way of justice. Please inform me and King Jon of the method. The execution will be on the morrow. These men aren’t worth the luxurious accommodations of the black cells. I don’t wish to have them sullying the castle for longer than necessary.”

With a nod of Jaime’s head, the guards removed the Bolton soldiers from the throne room. Brienne noted Jaime’s eyes linger on the man he would face on the morrow; a vicious smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Closing her eyes briefly, Brienne inhaled and looked to Jaime. She spoke for his ears only. “Will you give him an honorable death?”

“Did he afford you an honorable death?” Jaime’s voice was not harsh, but stern. His fingers laced through Brienne’s as his eyes lingered on hers.

With a slight nod, Brienne conceded the point. “Very well. Forgive me for not attending, though.”

A small smile tugged at Jaime’s lips. He leaned over slightly and spoke in hushed tones. “It’s understandable. The role of Lady Commander will likely find you quite busy. I’m more than happy to impart knowledge from my own experience in the role. A business supper perhaps?”

Brienne chuckled lightly and nodded. It was quickly becoming apparent how ill-equipped Brienne was to refute Jaime.

Standing from the throne, Arya began the trial for Sansa. “Sansa Stark, as you’ve already admitted to your crimes, there is little need to call any witnesses. Even still, I need to ask some questions to determine the necessary punishment for your wrongdoings. Please, step into the accused’s box.”

The guards moved to Sansa’s side and guided her into the wooden stand at the base of the stairs. An eerie silence fell over the assembled crowd as Arya slowly descended the steps towards her sister.

“Sometimes when I’m trying to understand a person’s motives, I play a little game. Not quite the same as yours and Littlefinger’s, but effective, nonetheless. You won’t need to answer much of anything. I can see the truth of it in your eyes. The truth of it on your face.”

As Arya reached the base of the stairs, Sansa stiffened. A slight fear shone in the young woman’s eyes as she studied her sister cautiously.

“All your life, you wanted to rule beside a handsome king, and preside over a loyal people. You thought you would sit there…” Arya pointed back at the throne without looking away from Sansa’s face.

“…next to someone like him.” Arya’s arm moved towards Jaime as she continued to stare deep into Sansa’s eyes.

A faint smile tugged at Arya’s lips. “That didn’t happen for you. The North named our cousin king. You misread the knight's intentions and allegiance. The loyal sworn sword dared to care for people beyond you. You hated them all for it. You lied to yourself about what you believed to be their true motives; anything to keep from accepting the truth. The truth that someone else could deserve the crown and rule well. The truth that people outside of House Stark can be allies and trusted. The truth that your most loyal supporter and protector died because of your paranoia and delusions. There was no betrayal against you. There was only support, but you didn’t want to see that, did you? You saw enemies at every turn. You learned a lot from _her_ … didn’t you?”

At Arya’s words, Sansa’s eyes went wide. She stammered slightly and a low rumble from those assembled echoed off the throne room walls. Arya’s hands gripped the wooden railing of the accused’s box and she leaned forward; her eyes studying Sansa close.

“Now a question. If you’re allowed to live, will you try to harm Ser Brienne again?”

Brienne watched on with interest as the hall fell silent. A momentary pause hung heavy in the throne room. Something flashed in Sansa’s eyes that Brienne could not read. Standing straight, Sansa looked down her nose at Arya.

“No.”

Arya stepped back and sighed. It was difficult to tell from her vantage point, but the younger sister almost appeared sullen. Arya took a steadying breath and looked into her sister’s eyes. Her tone was more subdued; less accusing and heavy with pity.

“You should have listened to that voice more. The little bird. She was your truth. I’m sorry for what this world has done to you, sister, but Ser Brienne didn’t hurt you. She saved you. You just refuse to see it.”

Without another word, Arya walked up the stairs towards the throne. “I would ask my fellow jurors and our Lord Hand to join me for deliberation on the accused’s punishment for her admitted crimes. We’ll break and return shortly.”

Brienne’s eyes lingered on Sansa as the chatter in the hall renewed. The jurors, Arya, and Jaime left to speak in a small study outside the throne room. The young woman in the accused’s box appeared despondent, and Brienne’s heart broke for her.

_Is there something that I could have done differently to prevent this all?_

**Jaime**

“She’s going to try and kill Ser Brienne again.” Arya’s tone was confident despite an undertone of regret.

Glancing at the other jurors, Jaime was uncertain what there was to deliberate on.

“So, she admits to the crimes and you claim she will try to kill Brienne again. Is this not a foregone conclusion?”

As his eyes scanned the other jurors, Selwyn and Tormund seemed to feel the same as Jaime. Pod however looked uneasy.

“Is there not a way to safely monitor her? To ensure she has no power nor ability to hurt anyone, including Ser Brienne? I hate her for what she has done, but… I remember her _before_. She didn’t always seem so cold and calculating.”

Arya sighed and shook her head. “She wasn’t. My sister is still in there somewhere. It’s too late for her though. She became the people she hated the most. Their poison corrupted her too deeply.”

_Of course, they mean Cersei and Joffrey. Likely Littlefinger too. I know what they did to her, but that isn’t Brienne’s fault._

“I killed my sister for the same thing. She wasn’t always a madwoman. At one time, she was innocent and decent, but she became a monster. Like Sansa, there was no return. I saw it in Cersei’s eyes when I wrapped my hand around her throat. It had to be done.”

Tormund’s eyes went wide. “What? You killed her sister?

Jaime recalled the lie that Tyrion, Arya, and Jon told. He recalled that aside from them, only Pod and Selwyn knew the truth. Stammering slightly, Jaime was spoke over by Arya.

“Long story, but yes, Jon killed her. It wasn’t for lack of effort from this one. The dolt had a brick fall on his head. He thinks he finished the job.”

The answer seemed to appease Tormund as Arya threw a warning look at Jaime. They didn’t think it right to put Jaime in a position of being dubbed kingslayer and kinslayer. Daenerys’ men were pacified thinking that Cersei was the culprit, and it needed to stay that way lest they hear rumors and call for Jaime’s head.

“Right. That’s what I meant. I just don’t understand what there is to debate. She’s your sister so perhaps you shouldn’t pass judgement.”

Arya nodded and lightly tapped the table with her knuckles. “I’ve seen the signs for some time, but I didn’t realize it was this bad. Bran warned me that she would try again, but I didn’t want to believe him. I thought when I asked Sansa the question, she would reassure me otherwise. I wanted to see if she was still in there and capable of driving decisions. I’ll defer punishment to you. Whoever passes judgement...”

“Yes, yes. Must swing the sword. Gods, you truly are your father.” Jaime paused to pinch the bridge of his nose. Glancing to Pod, Selwyn, and Tormund, Jaime sighed and shook his head. “Can you give us a moment between kingslayers.”

Arya snorted at Jaime’s teasing words; her eyes betraying her youth as a smirk tugged at her lips. When the others left the room, Jaime took a deep breath and dragged his nail along the grooves of the wooden table.

“I understand how you feel. Killing Cersei was not something that I _wanted_ to do, but she threatened Brienne. When I hesitated, she said she would kill her. I replay it all sometimes. I was too much of a coward to even look in Cersei’s eyes as the life left her body. She wasn’t always a horrible person, though she certainly became the worst of them. I can’t help but wonder how much of it was my fault. My indulging her. She destroyed your family in more ways than one. I’m sorry for it.”

Folding her arms, Arya’s nose crinkled as she looked away. “She was a proper cunt.”

A loud snort pushed past Jaime’s lips. “Yes, that she was. In the end at least. I had to kill Lady Olenna. I’m certain you can imagine why… Cersei’s orders.”

Jaime grimaced and looked away as his mind conjured the scene at Highgarden. “Cersei wanted it to be painful. I couldn’t. I was too changed by that point. Brienne showed me that there are _other_ ways. More honorable ways. I had the maester concoct a potion that would end her in as painless a way as possible. She didn’t appear to struggle. I’ll do the same for Sansa.”

Glancing at Arya, Jaime could see raw emotion slipping past her mask of confidence and indifference. A slight mist coated Arya’s eyes as her jaw clenched. It was the most youthful and innocent that Jaime had seen her since she was but a girl playing with her ill-fated friend on the journey to King’s Landing.

With a nod, Arya swallowed the tears. “I want to be there with her. She’s my sister. In death, she should have a hand to hold. I understand why it has to be this way, but…”

Arya couldn’t bring herself to complete the thought, but Jaime understood what she meant. It pained him to think on it, but he knew that Brienne would likely hold Sansa’s other hand.

_Loyal, honorable, kind Brienne. Even still, she only refuses Sansa because of the babe; not herself._

“I’ll pass the sentence. Would you rather stay in here?”

Shaking her head, Arya stood confidently. “No. I’ll do it. She betrayed Jon and our House. She put us all at risk when her scheme to push Daenerys over the edge worked. She stole a future knight from you and Brienne. Her actions led to my friend’s death.”

Jaime admired Arya’s resolve. He knew all too well how difficult this would be for the Stark family. For Brienne too.

_Why did Sansa do all of this? How could she not see how much love and support she had. It’s the true tragedy in it all._

Making their way back into the throne room with the other jurors at their back, Jaime took a final glance at Arya to ensure she was fit to pass judgement. The young wolf was all business once more. Her face was naught but steely resolve as she walked the steps towards the throne.

Jaime returned to Brienne’s side and reached for her hand. This would hurt Brienne; that much he knew.

Arya’s voice filled the hall as those assembled quieted once more.

“We have deliberated on the punishment befitting the crimes of Sansa Stark. For admitting to the crime of treason, conspiracy, and murder, we herby sentence you to death. As with the Bolton soldiers, Northern justice will be served. Recommendation for method of execution has been heard and approved by Lord Hand, Ser Jaime Lannister. We will discuss it with King Jon to carry out the sentence on the morrow.”

At his side, Brienne’s head fell, and she bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes. Jaime hated the position Sansa put them all in; particularly Arya and Brienne. He almost hated Sansa even more than before. Glancing at the young woman, Jaime watched a frightening indifference stretch across Sansa’s face.

_If that little girl is still in there as Arya said, perhaps she has gone away inside too. I just see a monster. I see Cersei._

The throne room cleared out after Sansa was returned to her cell. A looming figure approached, and Jaime didn’t need to look up to know it was Selwyn.

“Gods damnit girl, you scared the shit out of me. I thought for a moment you would champion her.” Selwyn’s large hand patted Brienne’s head as he sighed heavily and glanced around the room.

Without looking up at her father, Brienne replied with sorrow heavy in her tone. “It shouldn’t be like this. She shouldn’t have to die.”

_Seven hells. This going to be a nightmare to get her to move past._

Selwyn’s thumb and finger gripped the tip of Brienne’s chin and raised her head to meet his stare. “She killed my grandbabe.”

Every time Jaime heard of the babe that would never be, his stomach twisted. Without ever getting the chance to hold him or her, Jaime would mourn the child more than the others.

Joffrey was a miserable shit and brought nothing but pain and cruelty. Myrcella and Tommen were sweet, but they never felt his. He mourned the incredible people they were. He lamented not being able to save them. It broke his heart when they died, but they were Cersei’s children. He never got to be their father and he couldn’t mourn them as such.

His babe was gone now. At his side, Brienne sighed loudly. Without meeting her father’s eyes from where she sat, Brienne muttered.

“She didn’t know that I was…”

“It didn’t matter.” Bran’s voice caught them by surprise. The young man sat in his wheelchair with Arya at his back. He was at the base of the stairs and not far from where Jaime and Brienne sat with Selwyn standing tall beside them.

“She did it regardless. If she knew you were with child, she would have brewed the tea even stronger.” Bran’s words felt like a blow to the gut.

Jaime’s eyes drifted to Brienne once more. The pained expression on her face broke Jaime’s heart. She had earned the respect of her fellow knights and soldiers, but Jaime imagined that aside from Pod, Sansa was likely the closest thing Brienne had to a friend.

_Does she remember? Does she feel loyalty and friendship towards Sansa?_

Selwyn’s voice broke through Jaime’s thoughts as he grabbed Brienne by the tunic and hauled her upright. “It’s no matter. It’s done.”

“Why does it have to be death though? The Bolton soldiers killed me, not Sansa. She exiled me when she could have killed me. Perhaps she didn’t want me dead; just gone. Our of the way.”

Jaime leapt to his feet to speak, but Bran’s chilly voice filled the empty throne room once more. “Not then, but now she wishes you dead. You and Ser Jaime. Now she sees you as the reason for her fall from grace. I saw it in a vision. You let her live and she betrayed you again. First Ser Jaime died and then you. There was no coming back that time. Both flames went out.”

A chill ran down Jaime’s spine at Bran’s words. He didn’t fear death, but he didn’t want to lose Brienne again. The older lord before them shook with rage; his hands balling at his side.

“No one is killing them! They will be fine. My daughter is not dying again for a _very_ long time.”

Taking a steadying breath, Selwyn ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve had enough of this room. When is supper?”

Brienne snorted lightly at the question. “We’ve only just had lunch, father.”

“Well I’m hungry. A man my size doesn’t maintain his figure by fasting. Lets have an early supper, Brienne.”

A wide smile stretched across Jaime’s face as he glanced to Brienne.

_Not today Selwyn._

“Quite a shame really, but the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard has a working supper scheduled.”

Selwyn’s eyes narrowed at Jaime in thinly veiled disbelief. “A working supper?”

“It seems only reasonable that the last Lord Commander of the Kingsguard brief the newest Lady Commander of the Kingsguard.”

Selwyn scoffed before a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Yes, well be certain its just supper. No dessert. After all, the Lady Commander will need to maintain her _figure_ if she is to be successful in such a role.”


	22. Supper and Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime have their "business supper"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW elements ahead

**Jaime**

Jaime sat next to Brienne in the private audience chamber in the Tower of the Hand. Unlike Maegor’s Holdfast that saw much of the royal apartments destroyed, the Tower of the Hand was in decent condition.

While not thrilled with his position as Hand, Jaime enjoyed the privacy the role afforded where it concerned quarters. He had little desire to be in Maegor’s Holdfast or the White Sword Tower on account of old ghosts that followed him throughout the Keep.

He watched as Brienne appraised the room. It was only moments ago that he guided her to the room from her newly assigned chambers in the White Sword Tower. Leaving the White Sword Tower had been an exhausting affair. The other newly appointed Kingsguard were eager to welcome their new Lady Commander.

They sat at a square table that could comfortably fit four. Once Brienne had taken her seat, Jaime was certain to sit next to her, rather than across. He craved physical proximity to Brienne, now more so than at Winterfell.

At Winterfell Jaime had felt anxious and distracted by matters to the south. He had spent his days fretting over Brienne’s safety on account of Bronn’s presence and what Jaime imagined were other lurking threats. Now that they were safe, Jaime wasn’t going to let her go, nor was he planning to afford her personal space anytime soon.

There had been a moment in Volantis where he feared never having this time with her. Jaime worried that he may forever be a stranger to her or, even worse, little more than the Kingslayer.

“I’ve never seen so many wall hangings. Seems a bit excessive.” Brienne’s tone was laced with fascination as she continued to assess the room. Biting back a laugh, Jaime stared at her softly.

“I’ll inform my interior designer. I can’t have my Lady Commander offended by the décor.”

Brienne rolled her eyes, but she continued to appraise the room; her attention looking to the myrish rug at her feet.

“So you just have this entire tower to yourself?”

Continuing to stare at Brienne, Jaime shrugged. “It’s quite nice. I don’t have to listen to Pod bedding two Northern serving girls from a room next door.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide in horror. “What!? You’re japing. Tell me you’re japing.”

The affronted expression on Brienne’s face brought Jaime great joy. In truth, the disturbance from Pod’s room only happened once. Brienne had punished Pod in the yards the next day for partaking in such lascivious behaviors.

“Mayhap it’s a memory I shouldn’t remind you of, or Ser Podrick might find himself with another bruised rib. I’d hate for you to have to replace a Kingsguard already. Whatever you do, don’t ask Bronn for his opinions on Pod’s _talent_ with the ladies.”

Brienne gasped in horror; her hand flying to cover her mouth. The reaction elicited a fit of laughter from Jaime as he watched a blush spread across her face.

_Always so innocent. So pure. If only she remembered some of our nightly activities. I think Pod was merely trying to drown us out._

“So, what is this advice you have concerning the Kingsguard? What should I be aware of?”

_Oh. She thought I had true advice._

Considering his own time in the Kingsguard, Jaime smirked before responding with jest heavy in his tone.

“Don’t bed the sovereign. It makes things a bit too complicated.” At Brienne’s unimpressed glare, Jaime bit his lip before expanding on the thought. “Do feel free to bed the Hand, however. Preferably once your lord father leaves.”

Brienne’s cheeks pinked as she broke eye contact. The reaction reminded Jaime of the night following the feast. Without wine for encouragement, Jaime had returned to Brienne’s room to seek out the warmth of her bed. She had appeared surprised at his presence; it both amused and saddened him.

“Surely you have other advice. Perhaps more helpful advice.”

Jaime’s brows rose in contemplation, but he was lacking information to share which she wouldn’t already know. "In truth, I just wanted to spend time with you, without your father regarding me as though I was a fly in need of squashing.”

After the conversation in the study with Selwyn the day prior, the older lord had kept more of a distance from Jaime. Still, Jaime couldn’t help but feel a bit scrutinized by the mountain of a man. He feared doing anything that could set Selwyn off to the point where he might block a betrothal.

The thought reminded Jaime of what he truly meant to discuss with Brienne. Opening his mouth to speak, Jaime was quickly silenced by the sound of the staff bringing supper into the room.

As the rest of the staff cleared out, a young woman with long brown hair and brown eyes addressed them. Jaime couldn’t help but think she looked strangely familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. 

“M’lord Hand. Lady Commander. The chef was given special instruction by Lord Bran as to your meals for the evenin’.”

As Brienne reached for her napkin, the young woman caught Jaime’s eye and winked.

_Seven hells. If Arya is at it with those bloody faces again…_

Jaime’s thought was interrupted by Brienne as she removed the cover from her plate. A giant slab of steak was in the middle and surrounded by potatoes and carrots.

_Gods damnit Bran. I asked the bloody chef for something I wouldn’t fail at eating._

Removing the cover to his own plate, Jaime grimaced at the meal. While most had taken lunch before the trial, Jaime had not found time to eat. He had gone into the city to meet with the blacksmith who had previously made Brienne’s first set of custom armor.

When Brienne left for Tarth, Jaime had new armor made for her. Even if she didn’t return to King’s Landing, Jaime would ensure it got to her. The image of Brienne having to sell her armor for coin to survive, had been tough to see and tougher yet to remove from his memory.

Now of course she would need Kingsguard armor. Jaime went back to the smith to provide final payment for the newly made armor, and to request Kingsguard armor be made next. He was quite excited to have the newest armor worked on.

In addition to the standard Kingsguard sigil on the breastplate, Jaime requested the smith to add a shooting star over it. The shoot star was meant to represent the one atop Ser Duncan’s sigil. Knowing Brienne descended from one of the greatest knight to ever live, and a previous Lord Commander himself, to alteration felt fitting to Jaime. 

The smell of the meat hit Jaime’s nose, and his stomach began to ache and grumble in hunger. So lost in thought about his day’s adventure, Jaime hadn’t noticed Brienne carving her steak into bitesize pieces. Her plate slid towards Jaime, as her right hand picked up his plate. A memory rushed to the forefront of his mind.

A few nights after his arrival, and near execution, at Winterfell, Jaime sat in the great hall with Pod and Brienne. The servers came around to each table to set out platters for supper. Almost every night had been stew, stale bread, and potatoes.

Jaime hated it, but he understood they had thousands of mouths to feed. He was more surprised that Brienne and Pod were subjected to it nightly, while the Stark siblings took a more agreeable meal in Sansa’s solar.

Then the servers set out a platter with cuts of boar. Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight. All the soldiers at the table stared at the meat in shock before diving in.

_Gods. The dead must be close. They’re feeding us a proper meal now._

As everyone eagerly took a cut of boar, Jaime felt the back of his neck flame. He had yet to perfect the art of cutting meat with one hand. In King’s Landing, the chef always sent him fish or had his steak precut. Cersei hated it and always watched in disgust as Jaime was presented his food like a child of two.

Taking some of the potatoes and bread off the platter, Jaime kept his head down to avoid the mocking faces of the men around the table.

_How am I to survive an army of dead things when I can’t even cut my own supper?_

Then a plate slowly slid across the table. The meat had been cut into bite-sized portions and was surrounded by potatoes. Brienne took his near empty plate and put another cut of meat onto it for herself. She did it wordlessly or without request, and it meant the world to Jaime.

After that, it became a routine. Once Daenerys’ troops moved out, the meals became more generous. More favorable cuts of meat were provided to those remaining behind. Every night, Brienne cut Jaime’s food without a word before tending to her own meal.

Now as Jaime stared at the exchanged plates, a fond smile spread across his face. He must have been staring because Brienne startled.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that. It just felt like… a habit of some sort. I didn’t mean offense.”

Shaking his head, Jaime picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of the meat. “You used to do that for me at Winterfell. Thank you. I might have been a sack of bones otherwise.”

A small smile stretched across Brienne’s face. “It’s the least I can do. You lost the hand because of me.” As she spoke, her smile faded, and Jaime knew the question that was on the tip of her tongue. Brienne asked constantly in the North.

“You’re certain that you don’t resent me for it?”

With a heavy sigh, Jaime put down the forkful of meat before it reached his mouth. “You asked that a lot too. I could never resent you for it. I would do it again to keep you safe. It likely didn’t help that I couldn’t stop running my mouth. I’m surprised they didn’t take my tongue too.”

Jaime was content to reassure her as much as necessary, but he preferred seeing Brienne smile. She smiled more at Winterfell. There was still an uncertainty to her now. Before beginning to eat, Jaime smiled at Brienne.

“What did you do on Tarth?”

Brienne’s eyes lit up at the mention of Tarth. She finished chewing the forkful of potato in her mouth as she considered where to begin. The smile in her eyes excited Jaime. It was like speaking with her at Winterfell again.

“I showed Pod the ruins of Morne, my favorite waterfall, and the cliff that I used to jump into the sea from.”

Memories of jumping from the cliffs at the Rock flooded back to him. It surprised him to hear that they shared another pastime in youth. Jaime chewed on the steak as he watched Brienne excitedly tell him of Morne on the eastern edge of the island.

“Ser Galladon was a famous knight from Morne. My brother was named after him. He would have made a wonderful knight.”

The corners of Jaime’s lips tugged into a smile. “I don’t think I could handle getting my ass knocked into the dirt by two Tarths.” Brienne snorted before she took another bite of her meal. The corners of her lips pulled into a smile as she chewed.

“Did I truly beat you in a swordfight when you had two hands?”

Jaime chuckled at the question. He leaned back and crossed his arms; a challenging brow raised in response. “I was chained at the wrists.”

“…but you lost…”

“I was malnourished.”

“…still a loss…”

“The wind was blowing from my offside.”

A wide smile stretched across Brienne’s face as her posture mirrored his. “…and so, I did win…”

“We hardly had a chance to finish. I was just getting warmed up when Locke and his men arrived.”

Shaking her head, Brienne smiled. “It truly happened then. I knocked you down.”

“I’ve always been a bit weak in the knees for you, but that doesn’t mean that I was about to yield. I was ready to pounce on you. I was playing dead momentarily.”

Brienne threw back her head and laughed loudly. The sound nearly made Jaime melt into a useless puddle below his chair. His heart hammered wildly as he drank in the unbridled joy on her face.

“Like a cat lazing about in the sun?”

Jaime scoffed and feigned offense. “Like a lion drawing in its prey. Very intimidating.”

Brienne hummed in consideration and stabbed at another potato on her plate. “A stray cat perhaps. The kind that shows up one night looking all unkempt and too pitiful to not take in. Then you bring it inside and it destroys everything in sight like a complete, ungrateful ass.”

“What!?” Jaime threw back his head and laughed. “That is far too descriptive for it to not have happened. Brienne, did you take in a stray cat?”

“It looked so sad and needy. I didn’t know the stupid thing would destroy all the linens and piss on my septa’s skirts.”

Jaime laughed louder than moments earlier. The image of a young Brienne chasing a mangy cat around Evenfall while trying to get it under control played out in his mind. 

“Well I promise that if you take me into the White Sword Tower, I won’t shred the linens or the White Book. I can’t promise that I won’t miss the chamber pot if you’ve given me too much wine.”

“That is disgusting. How do you miss the chamber pot?”

Jaime chuckled. “It’s a long way to the floor. Oh, and don’t get me started on the lack of sunlight in the North. We’ve been through this. I can’t be held responsible for that.”

For a moment it escaped Jaime that Brienne didn’t remember those little things. The domesticity of their time together at Winterfell. His laughter died down as he realized the memory once shared with Brienne, was his alone.

Brienne’s nose scrunched in distaste. “Well now I just hope that I don’t need to use the privy while I’m here.”

Jaime took a long sip of his wine. “No, that’s safe. I don’t use it.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed as she prepared to take another bite of meat. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t use it. There’s another one not too far off.” Jaime shrugged and took the last bite of his meal. Leaning back, he chewed while smiling at Brienne.

“What? Why? That seems rather inconvenient.”

“Tyrion killed our father on that privy. Seems a most unfortunate Lannister trait; kinslaying. I don’t have much desire to go in there; particularly with Tyrion now in the Keep. All I need do is piss him off once during one small council meeting, and I’ll get an unexpected visitor.”

Jaime’s words were half jest, half-truth. He knew that Tyrion would never harm him, but for as horrible as Tywin was, the loss of his father weighed heavily on Jaime. When the head of their House died, everything began to collapse around him. Their House imploded from within and Jaime could never shake the helpless feeling. He felt ill-prepared to step into his father’s boots, nor did he wish to.

The smile on Brienne’s face died at the words. “That’s awful. I’m sorry to hear it.”

Jaime shrugged and looked to his false hand. “It was some years ago now. It’s fine. I just don’t want to go in there.”

When Brienne finished her meal, Jaime felt his nerves kick in again. He took a final sip of wine before standing from his chair. “I have something for you.”

Brienne looked up in confusion; her brows furrowing slightly. “For me?”

Reaching for Brienne’s hand, Jaime tugged her from the seat. They walked wordlessly down the hallway and up a flight of stairs towards the solar. When they walked inside, Jaime pulled Brienne towards the armor that he had covered with a linen.

An attendant had kept the fire going from earlier that day when the armor was moved in. Given the hour, the firelight danced on the walls and cast a glow similar to their first night together at Winterfell.

Standing before it as they once did so many years ago, Jaime tugged the linen off, and turned to Brienne. “I know you need Kingsguard armor now, but I had this made to replace the armor you left behind. I’m very confident that I got your measurements right.”

Jaime raised a teasing brow, but Brienne’s face held no mirth. She stood slack jawed staring at the armor. It was a similar blue and style to the set he had made previously. While the fit would be similar, he had additional detailing added.

The Tarth sunburst from her House’s sigil was worked into the center of the breastplate. Reaching out, Brienne’s long, thin fingers traced the sunburst. A slight mist coated her eyes as she turned to him.

“I remember this. Just... not the sigil. You gave me armor before. Where is it? Did I leave it at Winterfell?”

Jaime took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “When Sansa exiled you, you didn’t have any coin. You had to sell it for your travel south.”

Brienne grimaced at the words as though it hurt to think on. “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve this. It’s too kind of you.”

“I want you to have it. You deserve this and more. It was wrong what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Looking at the armor, Brienne smiled. “It’s amazing.”

As she continued appraising the armor, her eyes landed on the pauldrons. Similar to the breastplate, it had the Tarth sunburst, but with an additional detail. The smaller sunbursts at each pauldron also had a small lionhead in the center.

“Is that a lion?”

Jaime’s entire body was shaking with anxiety as he took a step closer. “Yes. I… I didn’t know if you would come back. I just wanted to be with you somehow. It seemed perfect that your House sigil is the sun. You’ve always been my light in the darkness.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide at the words. Her neck reddened slightly, and Jaime knew that it was now or never. The room felt infinitely hotter as he summoned the courage. Taking a deep breath, Jaime met Brienne’s eyes.

“Everything just feels darker without you. I can’t lose you again, and I don’t want to live without you. Will you marry me?”

Jaime felt his palm begin to sweat as he desperately searched Brienne’s face for an answer. She grimaced slightly and moved her had from the pauldrons.

“I… I’m not a good match for you. You should find a proper…”

Interjecting quickly, Jaime reached for Brienne’s hand. A slight desperation took hold as Jaime could feel Brienne withdrawing emotionally. “You’re who I want. Who I’ve wanted for years, I but was too much a coward to admit.”

“I believe that you feel that way now, but you’ll change your mind in time. You’ll see me for what I am.”

Jaime’s voice was resolute as he continued to look deep into Brienne’s eyes. “I see you for what you are. I love you, and that will never change. If you don’t want to marry me, I understand, and I’ll never ask again. But don’t refuse me because you think to know how I might feel years from now.”

A heavy silence fell over them, and Jaime feared that she would refuse him still. Taking a deep breath, Jaime closed his eyes briefly before looking to the floor.

“Do you want to marry? I don’t mean me. I just mean in general.”

Brienne sighed and began to fidget. “I always wanted to when I was young, but I learned quite quickly how impossible that would be.”

“Well I want very much to marry you. When I’m with you, I feel happy and warm. Like arriving home. Do you want to marry _me_?”

Jaime braced himself for the worst. Given Brienne’s struggle to accept his love, and her resolve to perform well in the newly assigned role, Jaime realized that he may never be afforded anything other than friendship.

Brienne stammered slightly at the question. A blush crept up her neck and to her cheeks. “I… I do love you. And I… I would marry you, but I’m not…”

Before Brienne could finish, Jaime’s lips crashed into hers. The sensation was dizzying and always accompanied their lips pressing together in passion. Jaime wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

When Brienne returned the kiss, Jaime pulled her closer; a smile tugging at his lips. Resting his forehead against Brienne’s, Jaime begrudgingly broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.

“Please don’t make me ask daily. I’ll do it, but it makes me nervous.”

Brienne huffed a small laugh. “Daily sounds a bit exhausting.”

“Yes, I’ll badger you daily until you’re too weary to refute me. Annoying you into submission was my approach in the Riverlands too. I can be very persistent and insufferable.”

Brienne snorted and shook her head. “Yes, and how well did that work out for you?”

A wide smile stretched across Jaime’s face. “You’re in my arms, aren’t you?”

The returning smile from Brienne took Jaime’s breath away. There was a hint of jest in her tone as she spoke; her eyes never leaving his. “Alright. If for no other reason than to spare myself the mental anguish. I’ll marry you.”

Jaime’s lips found Brienne’s once more. It felt as though a weight had been lifted. The gods had given Brienne a second chance at life, but to Jaime, it felt he could now begin his first.

As the kiss deepened, Jaime felt his cock harden against Brienne’s pelvis.

_Fuck Selwyn. I want dessert._

**Brienne**

Jaime’s strong arms guided Brienne backwards towards the wall. She could feel his want for her growing, and the desire was wholly returned. As their hands explored each other’s body, Brienne caught sight of the armor over Jaime’s shoulder.

The memory had come back vividly moments earlier. They stood in the White Sword Tower before Brienne left to find Sansa. She had been reading from the White Book before Jaime presented her with Oakthkeeper and armor. At the time, it felt to Brienne as though she was acquiring physical goods in exchange for her heart.

She knew it then when she left King’s Landing. Cersei had the right of it. No one else would claim her heart for it belonged to Jaime.

What she felt for Renly was a childhood crush born. What she felt for Jaime was inexplicable. Some might assume it was little more than affection forged out of trauma, but to Brienne, it felt deeper and untouchable.

No matter the situation, Brienne could never harm Jaime, nor allow harm to befall him. It would have been the one request from House Stark that Brienne could not honor. Until her last breath, she would protect Lady Stark’s children _and_ Jaime. Her loyalty to the Stark children was born out of duty. Her loyalty to Jaime was born out of love.

It felt the same even now. She would protect Jon out of duty, but she would protect Jaime out of love. Brienne suddenly understood how Jaime felt over the past moon turn when contemplating the Bolton soldiers.

If anyone tried to hurt King Jon, Brienne would summarily execute the wrongdoer. There would be little feeling behind it; only swift execution. If anyone tried to hurt Jaime, she would dismantle the miserable shit piece by piece. It would not be quick nor painless.

_There isn’t another way for Sansa. If what Bran says is true and she’ll come for Jaime next, she must be dealt with now. A gentle death as Arya and Jaime informed me. If we don’t do this now and she tries to harm Jaime, I will not deal with her gently._

Jaime’s hips pressed firm against Brienne; his cock making his desires known. Their hands began to fumble with laces and tug at tunics. Clothing pooled at their feet as they soon stood before one another naked as their nameday.

Brienne felt her body being lifted from the ground. The movement caught her by surprise, and she clung to Jaime so as not to fall. Lowering her to the ground gently, Jaime smiled; his voice full of lust, but a hint of jest. “I told you I’m strong enough.”

As Brienne’s head touched the soft rug, the warmth of the fire kissed the left side of her face and body. The rug was warm at her back as Jaime hovered over her; his face the softest she had ever seen. As he leaned on his right forearm, his left hand brushed through her hair.

“I love you, Brienne. Always.”

Whether on account of the fire or the love she felt for Jaime, an overwhelming warmth coursed through Brienne’s body. Reaching for his face, Brienne felt her lips twitching with happiness.

“I love you, Jaime. In two lifetimes it seems.”

Then Jaime’s lips were back on hers. As his left hand moved down her body, he grabbed her leg and pulled it over his hip. His cock nudged at her entrance before he thrust into her. At their union, Jaime stilled and moaned into her mouth.

A small gasp pushed past Brienne’s lips. It was a familiar ache and pleasure from having him fully sheathed in her. Moving slowly inside her, Jaime kissed Brienne’s jaw and neck. The feel of his muscular back under her hands sent a jolt of desire straight to Brienne’s core.

The firelight danced against his hair and skin in the most mesmerizing way. It felt like a dream from which Brienne never wanted to awake. As Jaime pushed impossibly deeper, Brienne felt her pleasure building. Her legs wrapped firm around Jaime’s hips as his name danced on the tip of her tongue.

Their breathing shallowed as their bodies began to move as one. Brienne moaned in pleasure as Jaime angled and hit a spot buried deep within. Jolts of pleasure coursed throughout her body. As Brienne could feel her body nearing climax, her walls tightened around Jaime.

Jaime groaned in ecstasy; his nose at her temple and his lips by her ear. He whispered her name reverently as he continued pushing deeper; hitting _that_ spot repeatedly. The sensation sent Brienne spiraling as she peaked. Her back arched in response as her legs tightened around Jaime’s hips.

With a final thrust, Jaime spilled in her; his cock pushing deeper with release. They lay together for some time; neither moving to break their union. Jaime’s voice was sated when he eventually spoke.

“I don’t want you to leave this tower. When can we get married so that I don’t have to return you to separate quarters?”

Brienne considered the words and sighed. She never wanted a large wedding. The thought of so many eyes assessing her ugly body sent her into a panic. Her father however always wanted to see her married at the sept on Evenfall. It was where he wed the love of his life; her mother.

“We should speak with my father. I imagine he’ll have opinions on the matter, but I don’t want a big show of it.”

“Lets go find him then. We’ll find a septon tonight.”

Brienne snorted and ran a hand through Jaime’s hair. “I can’t imagine that he’ll wish to find a septon tonight.”

“I’m the Lord Hand and you’re the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard. What septon would refuse us?”

_He certainly is persistent._

They dressed quickly and lingered slightly in the room. Neither wished to part for the night, but Jaime knew that Brienne couldn’t stay with him. He was determined to not dishonor her as he did in Winterfell by sharing a bed unwed.

Brienne marveled at the feeling of Jaime’s hand holding hers as they left the Tower of the Hand.

_It’s so strange that Jaime Lannister truly desires me. I hardly understand it all._

As they left the Tower of the Hand, they passed through the lower levels of Maegor's Holdfast to get to the White Sword Tower. While the royal apartments were in shambles, other sections were stable and housing much of the castle occupants.

They moved in the direction of the Queen’s ballroom and Brienne laughed at another of Jaime’s ridiculous japes. He never seemed to stop talking, and Brienne imagined that as an enemy, he must have been insufferable. 

As they rounded the corner, Brienne and Jaime stopped abruptly. Their laughter died quickly as surprise replaced mirth. Two Kingsguard stood behind a table where Bran, Arya, Selwyn, Pod, Tyrion, Jon, and Bronn were seated. The table was covered in jugs of wine and small platters of lemon cakes.

A wide smile stretched across Bran’s face. “Lord Hand. Lady Commander. How was your business supper?”

Brienne felt her face flame slightly as the group appraised them; smirks on their faces and cups of wine in hand. Fortunately, Jaime spoke for them as he pulled Brienne forward cautiously.

“Very productive. A bit of a rude attendant dropped off the _lovely_ meal you recommended to the chef.” Jaime raised a challenging brow at Arya who grinned wolfishly before taking a sip of wine.

“It worked out quite nicely, didn’t it? You had someone to lend a hand.” Bran’s eyes darted to Brienne; amusement lining his features. “Care for dessert? Or are you both sated?”

_Oh gods. Kill me now._

At her side, Jaime muttered under his breath. “Ned’s son indeed.”

Plastering a forced smile to his face, Jaime began to tug Brienne towards the side exit. “Well I’m just _respectfully_ escorting Ser Brienne to her room.” Jaime raised a challenging brow at Selwyn. The older lord snorted and shook his head, but Brienne could see the hint of a smile tugging at her father’s lips.

“Or would you prefer to _respectfully_ escort your betrothed to the royal sept?” Arya spoke challengingly at the pair; her eyes dancing with mirth.

_How does she know of the betrothal?_

Glancing at Jaime, Brienne could see the surprise on his face. It was evident that he hadn’t informed anyone of his plans to propose to Brienne.

Bran smirked as his eyes darted between them. “Come now. What kind of Master of Whisperers would I be if I failed to keep sight of happenings in the Red Keep?”

Jon stood from his seat and smiled at the pair of knights. “Bran thought you might wish to marry tonight. We have a septon waiting at the royal sept if you like. And as you can see… drink and food for after.”

Jaime seemed as dumbfounded as Brienne, but a wide smile spread across his face as he slowly looked to her. His hand tightened around hers as he leaned in towards her ear.

“I would marry you anytime so long as you’re happy.”

While Brienne cared little for venue, she knew it meant something to her father. Glancing to Selwyn, Brienne’s eyes were a question.

Her father’s lips pressed into a thin line as he raised a brow. With a small nod of his head, Selwyn questioned her. “Well… do you want to be a knight _and_ a wife?”

As a wide smile stretched across her face, Selwyn stood and moved quickly towards her. He pulled her into a firm embrace and sighed. Whispering for her ears only, Selwyn chuckled.

“This boy will make you happy?”

It wasn’t a question that needed much thought. “Yes.”

Selwyn hummed and pulled back to appraise her face. His eyes narrowed in consideration for a moment before he shook his head and chuckled. “So, I have to be nice to him now?”

An unamused expression lined Brienne’s face, but Selwyn merely chuckled and glanced at Jaime. “Fine. I’ll not kill the boy. Come here, son.”

Brienne snorted as Selwyn grabbed Jaime roughly by the jerkin and pulled him hard into the embrace with Brienne. “Lets get this over with. I don’t want any grandbabes entering this world in fewer moon turns than you’ve been married.”


	23. Houses and Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne wed in the royal sept.

**Jaime**

Jaime couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he stood opposite Brienne in the royal sept. The group that had been secretly awaiting them in the hall now stood in the sept; each holding a candle to add to the light from the torches adorning the wall.

The flickering flames from the torches and candles danced over the contours of Brienne’s face. Of all the horrid things that Jaime said at the beginning of their journey together, the one he regretted the most was ‘you’re much uglier in daylight’.

In truth, Jaime had yet to find a light that Brienne didn’t appear breathtaking in. Of late however, firelight was his favorite. It was in firelight that he knighted her. Firelight when he first kissed her. Firelight when they first came together. Firelight when he proposed. And now firelight when they would exchange vows.

Thinking on it further, Jaime realized it was by campfire that he yelled ‘sapphires’, and torchlight in the baths of Harrenhal when he told her of Aerys.

The septon opened the ceremony and looked at Jaime with a raised brow. “Do you have a cloak to bring the bride under your protection, my Lord Hand?”

Jaime snorted and shook his head. “She’s and knight and the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard. I’m fairly certain she’ll be protecting me.” 

Their friends and family assembled chuckled in shared knowledge that his words rung true, but the septon look aghast. With a slight shake of his head, the older man took a deep breath and continued.

 _“_ Your grace, my lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

The septon produced a ribbon and placed Brienne’s hand atop Jaime’s. As he tied the ribbon, the septon continued speaking loudly for all to hear.

“Let it be known that Ser Jaime of House Lannister and Ser Brienne of House Tarth are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." 

Jaime bit back a smile as he glanced to Brienne from the corner of his eyes. All he wanted to do was kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t time for that yet. The septon untied their hands and instructed them to face one another.

“Look upon each other and say the words.”

Smiling widely, Jaime and Brienne spoke in unison.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days.”

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.” Jaime concluded the vows and wrapped his right arm around Brienne’s waist, pulling her close. In a kiss less than appropriate for a sept, Jaime’s lips found Brienne’s as his left hand came to her face; his thumb caressing her cheek.

As their group of witnesses began cheering, Jaime felt Brienne smile into the kiss as the septon urged them apart. An unimpressed look from the septon was enough to let Jaime know that the kiss was more appropriate for the bedding than the wedding.

_If it wasn’t for the audience, I’d have done far more than kiss her on his silly alter._

Jon approached with a smirk on his face. “You’ve done me two favors today, Ser Brienne. First you accept my offer to ensure I have the best Commander for my Kingsguard. Now you put this man’s awful pining and moping to end. I didn’t know that I could take another day of it.”

_As if Ned’s children weren’t enough, I get to endure his nephew too._

A slight chuckle pushed past Brienne’s lips at Jon’s words. With a hint of jest in her tone, Brienne glanced to Jaime before responding. “It is my duty to ensure your safety, your grace; both physical and emotional.”

“Wow. Already teaming up on me. It’s not even been a day.” Jaime could barely contain the amusement in his voice. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind Brienne’s ear as she bit back a laugh.

Jon’s hand clapped Jaime on the shoulder and a genuine smile flashed across the king’s face. “Congratulations. You both deserve this happiness. Shall we have some wine and dessert in the hall?”

In truth, all Jaime wanted to do was enjoy his new wife in their room, but he wanted to Brienne to enjoy the night before he stole away with her.

With a nod of affirmation, Jaime extended his arm to Brienne. They approached the group and Jaime observed Selwyn wiping away tears lining his face.

Brienne groaned at Jaime’s side. “Oh gods. Father, are you crying?”

Selwyn scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not! It’s this bloody candle. The smoke is in my eyes.”

As Brienne and Selwyn began to needle one another, Jaime caught sight of Tyrion approaching. A wide smile stretched across the younger Lannister’s face as he outstretched his arms.

“Brother. Now I’ve seen it all. Dead things walking. Dragons flying. My big brother marrying.”

Jaime snorted and kneeled to hug his brother. A slight chuckle shook Tyrion’s chest as he squeezed Jaime tightly. “You could have told me that you were proposing. I had to hear it from Bran.”

“I did _not_ tell Bran. I’m starting to think he sees more of future happenings than he is letting on.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “You and me both. Truly, I don’t know why Jon needs any of us.”

From over Tyrion’s shoulder, Jaime cringed as Bronn swaggered over and yelled loudly; his voice echoing off the sept falls. “Well fuck me. Jaime Lannister finally found someone blonde enough, who he didn’t emerge from a cunt with.”

The Lannister brothers cringed in response. Jaime’s eyes darted to the septon who clutched his chest and looked ready to die on the spot. With a slight shake of his head, Tyrion muttered obscenities under his breath.

“I’m sorry. He was taking supper with me, Pod, and Selwyn, when Bran told us your intent this evening. I tried to dissuade him from joining.”

The sound of Arya cackling at the vulgar words was the only thing louder than Bronn. As the sellsword reached them, he smirked and clapped Jaime hard on the shoulder.

“Finally. Now I got a chance with the ladies. Jaime fuckin’ Lannister is a taken man.” Removing any jest from his tone, Bronn nodded. “She’s a good woman. I was never gunna hurt her; I swear it. Congratulations.”

With a nod of thanks, Jaime offered a small smile. At his back, Pod had engulfed Brienne in a tight hug and was sobbing against her. The sight of the weeping, young Kingsguard captured Bronn’s attention.

“Oh fuck me. Not this again. Stop weepin’ on ya Lady Commander’s tits. Ya can bury ya face in plenty of ‘em later when we hit the brothels.”

Tyrion spoke through gritted teeth; his eyes darting back to the septon who was as red as a Lannister banner. “Bronn. Enough. We’re in a sept.”

As much of the group began to move towards the hall, Bran caught Jaime’s attention. “Ser Jaime.”

Taking a few steps towards Bran, Jaime glanced back at Brienne who was speaking with Arya. Pod and Selwyn stood talking to the side while Tyrion, Bronn, and Jon made their way back towards the hall.

As he reached Bran, Jaime noted the smirk tugging at the young man’s lips. “What a difference a moon turn makes. It wasn’t long ago you wondered if she would be better off not remembering you.”

Glancing back at Brienne, Jaime’s heart warmed at the sight of her smiling and talking with Arya. He turned his attention back to Bran; his brows furrowing slightly. “You saw it all and couldn’t tell me? Do you truly hate me that much?”

Bran rolled his eyes and shook his head in denial. “I didn’t lie to you. When I see visions of the future, things are very unclear. I often see them in sets. Each a path that must be taken. I had a vision before the trial. Another set of diverging paths leading to different outcomes.”

“What did you see? You said Sansa would kill me and Brienne.”

Bran nodded slowly. Any mirth previously in his eyes was gone. “One path saw Sansa allowed to live. An unyielding thirst for revenge drove her to kill you both. Not by her hand. Like your sister, she wouldn’t take action herself. She would use another. Fortunately, that path was not taken. In the path where she is executed, I saw this. I saw you propose to Brienne. I saw you both serving at Jon’s side for a time. I saw Tarth.”

Tarth. The thought had been on Jaime’s mind since he spoke to Selwyn. It was clear that the older lord missed his daughter and loved her dearly; even if he was at a loss for how to get through to her.

Selwyn wanted to see Brienne happy, even if it took her away from home. As happy as Selwyn was now, Jaime understood he was likely sad to be leaving soon without his daughter.

At the same time, Jaime had noticed how Brienne’s eyes lit up when she spoke of Tarth. The excitement in her voice during supper made him ponder what would come after they served Jon. Jaime had no desire for the Rock, and he would not look to take it back from Tyrion. With Brienne being the only heir to Tarth, Jaime thought it would make sense to make Evenfall home.

Appraising Bran, Jaime questioned him. “You saw us on Tarth? Was Brienne happy?”

Nodding slowly, Bran searched Jaime’s face as though seeking an unspoken answer to a question he had yet to share.

“I saw you _both_ happy. The longer the vision went on, the blurrier it became. I couldn’t see much, but I heard laughter. Children’s laughter. When the time comes, you’ll give her everything.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed at the words. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ll give it all up for her. You’ll see soon enough.” At Arya’s approach, Bran’s face warmed as he appraised his sister.

“Come on, Bran. I want to get to the lemon cakes before Bronn eats them all. It would be a shame if I had to kill him following a wedding.”

Jaime snorted as Arya began to wheel her brother towards the hall. Turning to Brienne, Jaime walked quickly to her side and placed his arm around her waist. Forgetting Bran’s words for the time being, Jaime began to guide her out of the royal sept.

A teasing smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he placed a gentle kiss to Brienne’s cheek. “Shall we have dessert?”

**Brienne**

It seemed surreal that she was married. As a girl, Brienne longed to marry and have a family to call her own. When her mother, brother, and sisters died, Brienne felt alone and lost. Her father was rarely present, and she thought a marriage would be the only way to rebuild what she lost.

Then Brienne’s betrothed died before they met. Based on the reactions she often received from visiting vassals and other children, Brienne thought it for the best. Her septa hoped it was a brief ugly phase that she would outgrow, but it only worsened over the years.

When Ronnet came to Tarth and threw a rose in her face, Brienne realized that she was the ugliest girl in the Seven Kingdoms. There would be no knight coming to her rescue. No children to wrap her arms around and build a new family with.

Becoming her own knight, Brienne decided to concentrate on what little she could do to make her father proud. It quickly became apart that her skills far exceeded any of Tarth’s knights and soldiers. For the first time, Brienne felt a swell of pride and purpose.

Then her father betrothed her to a man of five and sixty. It seemed that no matter how skilled she was with a weapon in hand, her father still only had one desire for her; marriage. When her betrothed threatened to take away her sword, Brienne felt something snap inside.

Much to her father’s dismay, Brienne beat her betrothed to a pulp. It was the last match that her father would attempt. The last chance at marriage that she thought to have. Now Brienne found herself married to Jaime Lannister. Even more strangely, it was not a political match, but a love match.

Mayhap they didn’t raise me, and I’m still dead. These are merely the pathetic desires of a dead woman, who, by the grace of the gods, was allowed entry into the heavens.

_They’ve allowed me to have something in death which I could never have in life. Finally a mercy from the gods._

It all felt so real though. Looking at Jaime as they entered the hall, Brienne studied him. She half expected him to fade away now that her dream of marriage came true.

“Are you alright?” Jaime’s voice cut through her thoughts. With a small nod, Brienne spoke for his ears only.

“Is this all real, or am I still dead?”

Grabbing her hand, Jaime placed it over his heart. A steady beating pushed against her palm as Jaime smiled softly.

“I’m quite confident this is real, but if by some chance its not, don’t wake me up.”

Jaime’s words set Brienne at ease. His lips gently brushed against hers; a promise for later when they retired together.

_Together. I don’t need to sleep alone at night. I’ll have someone to help chase away the nightmares._

Brienne was still plagued by dreams that she struggled to remember upon waking. She wondered if she would talk aloud in her sleep, and Jaime could remind her when she awoke.

Before she could consider it further, her father approached them. “Come sit with me. I should like to get to know my goodson better.”

They followed Selwyn to the table where the others were already enjoying wine and sweets. Jaime poured Brienne some wine as he sat to her right and Selwyn sat across from them.

“So, Jaime. All I know of you, is what Bran has told me from the time you slayed your king, up until the time you slayed your queen. Both mad of course, so not without reason…”

Brienne paused before taking a bite of her lemon cake. She began to reprimand her father, but he continued before she could cut him off.

“… and all I know from personal experience is that House Lannister is wealthy, arrogant, and scheming. Your father might have been the greatest ass I’ve ever met.”

“Father!” Brienne glared at Selwyn. Her mouth hung open as she glanced apologetically to Jaime. For his part, Jaime only seemed amused by it all.

Selwyn raised a challenging brow at Brienne. “What!? And do you recall your first impression of your husband, daughter?”

The question annoyed her. He knew full well that she didn’t remember much, and it brought her endless frustration. With her vexation boiling over, Brienne felt a calming hand on her knee. Glancing to her side, Jaime chuckled.

“It’s fine. He isn’t lying. My father was a prick. The description of my House as arrogant and scheming is quite kind in comparison to others to have graced my ears before. My father, sister, and Tyrion are the scheming ones. I’ve always been considered the stupidest Lannister. I just swing a sword around.”

“You are not stupid, Jaime.” Brienne scolded him; her eyes deadly serious. She didn’t know why she felt such a strong urge to defend something for which she hardly knew the truth, but from what she remembered of Jaime, he was hardly an idiot.

“I jumped unarmed into a bear pit, Brienne. Not a very sound strategy. I also ran my mouth to Locke, made some incredibly idiotic decisions where it concerned my sister, and overall did a fairly horrific job of handling everything concerning you at Winterfell. It’s not an unfair statement. My own father thought me a great dolt.”

From across the table, Selwyn hummed in amusement, but quickly came to Jaime’s defense. “As I said, your father was a great ass. I suppose you haven’t been a complete fool. An idiot wouldn’t have been able to save King’s Landing… twice. An idiot wouldn’t have knighted my daughter. An idiot wouldn’t be able to command armies as effectively as I hear you do. When we heard you joined the War of the Five Kings, Tarth thought the Stark cause as good as done. Tarth was quite surprised when rumors of the battle at Whispering Woods reached our shores.”

The words seemed to take Jaime by surprise as much as they did Brienne. He father nonchalantly took a sip of his wine and considered Jaime. “Will the pair of you go to Casterly Rock when you’ve had enough of small council?”

“I disinherited myself. Tyrion is lord there.”

Selwyn’s eyes went wide in at Jaime’s words. A small smile stretched across Brienne’s face as she recalled his words from yesterday.

_We can be homeless together._

As the words hung over them, Selwyn leaned forward. “Why would you do that? You’re the eldest son and heir of a Great House. You need to carry on the Lannister name!”

“I never wanted it. I’m not fit to rule anything. That’s what Tyrion does. He’ll make a fine lord; far better than I could ever be. Besides, I have more Lannister cousins than I care to count.”

Selwyn scoffed. “Ridiculous. A well-known knight and nobleman from a Great House such as yourself will walk away from his ancestral home and name. Meanwhile I’m the last of them. The last Tarth. My daughter is what now? Brienne Hill?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “He didn’t delegitimize himself, father. He merely gave Tyrion right to Casterly Rock. I suppose I’m now Brienne Lannister.”

“Oh gods. My island is to be ruled by Lannisters. I think Brienne Hill of Tarth would be much better.”

Selywn’s voice was laced with jest, but Brienne knew how disappointing it was for her father to be the last Tarth. When Galladon died, it seemed so would the Tarth name. It was an old line dating back to the dawn of days.

At her side, Jaime spoke inquisitively. “Do you not have any other living Tarths? No cousins or siblings?”

Selwyn snorted. “I am the last Tarth. I know it’s confusing because I’m the size of a few men, but no, there are no other Tarths. Any others bearing the name died when I was but a boy.”

“It’s an old line, isn’t it?”

At Jaime’s question, Selwyn hummed and took a bite of his lemon cake. He nodded in confirmation as he finished chewing. “Quite old. Dates back to the dawn of days. Our line used to be kings. That’s why they call me the Evenstar. Like Dorne, Tarth refuses to bend to the whims of Targaryens where it concerns our titles. I suppose my line’s relationship with the crown let them get away with it.”

Selwyn guffawed and shook his head. “Mayhap that Wildling is right about giant’s blood.” Shaking his head in amusement, Brienne watched as her father took another bit of lemon cake.

Brienne took a sip of her wine as she listened to Jaime and Selwyn speak. A part of her was saddened to no longer be a Tarth.

_Mayhap I can go by Brienne Lannister of Tarth. I’ll have to see if Jaime minds._

As if reading her mind, Jaime spoke as though the matter inconsequential. “Well… why can’t we just go by Tarth then?”

Brienne startled slightly at the words. Turning to look at him, her eyes were hopeful. “You don’t mind if I go by Brienne Lannister of Tarth? I would like that.”

Jaime shook his head and corrected his meaning. “No. I mean why don’t we go by just Tarth. I’d rather be Jaime Tarth than Jaime Lannister. No good has every come from that name.”

“What? A man from a Great House taking my name? Jaime, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not? I’m Hand. I can do as I please. Truly, Brienne, what good has House Lannister done for Westeros of late? Your father’s description of my House is not inaccurate. Why should your House die out when it’s an honorable line with history behind it? Its been around for longer than House Lannister, that’s for sure.”

Brienne felt her jaw go slack. “Jaime. That’s too much. You shouldn’t abandon your House for mine.”

Jaime snorted at the words. “There are more Lannisters in the West than there are people on Tarth. Far too many of them than necessary; each more annoying than the last. I was an idiot and I got you killed. The least I can do is take the Tarth name. It seems fitting actually. A fresh start for me. I don’t have to be the Kingslayer anymore. Just the consort to the future Evenstar. I’d quite like that.”

Brienne’s eyes darted to her father. He sat rigid with his mouth agape and hope writ across his features. Selwyn’s eyes darted between the couple as if afraid to speak.

Leaning towards Jaime, Brienne whispered for his ears only. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t blame you for my death. You and Jon brought me back to life. You’re from a Great House…”

“I am. Tarth is a great House. Better than my House. I’d be improving my station. Would it make you happy, or do you want to be a Lannister?”

Brienne guffawed as a memory flooded back to her. _Maybe you’re a Lannister too._

“That was awful. ‘Maybe you’re a Lannister to. You’ve got the hair for it if not the look.’ That was here, wasn’t it?”

Jaime buried his face in his hand. “Oh gods. Of all the things you remember. That is what comes back?”

They shared a laugh together for a moment, before Jaime grew serious once more. “Are you going to let me be a Tarth, or would I sully the name too much?”

Brienne searched his eyes for signs of regret, but she couldn’t see any. With a small smile, she nodded her head. “I’d like that. Just be careful telling my father. He might maul you.”

A light chuckle shook Jaime’s chest. “Well fortunately we have a table between us.”

They turned to Selwyn who was still staring like a fool. His eyes were a question as he looked to them. It was Jaime who spoke.

“You daughter is allowing me to be Jaime Tarth now; consort to the future Evenstar. Hopefully you don’t mind…”

Before Jaime could finish, Selwyn lunged across the table and pulled him over it into a tight hug. Brienne grabbed Jaime’s cup of wine before it spilled all over, as Selwyn dragged half of Jaime’s body across the table.

“Gods! I love this boy. Brienne, why the hells haven’t you married him sooner? What has taken you so long?”

_Oh gods. This might have been a bad idea. Now he likes Jaime. Very dangerous indeed._

Selwyn released Jaime’s body to cup his face. “My boy! Wonderful lad.” While still keeping his massive hands pressed firmly against Jaime’s cheeks; Selwyn looked down the table. “King Jon! This fine man needs a proper name change. That septon needs to fix his bloody scribbles in his book.”

Jon’s brows furrowed. “What’s going on now?”

Brienne looked down the table at the sea of curious faces. Only Bran appeared unsurprised by the scene playing out.

“Our Lord Hand is to be Jaime Tarth. Not Jaime Lannister.”

Chaos broke out in the hall at Selwyn’s words.

Arya looked to Jon inquisitively. “He can do that?”

“What!?” Tyrion bellowed in a mix of shock and offense.

Bronn guffawed loudly as Pod sat in shock beside the sellsword. For the king’s part, his mouth hung open slightly as he appraised Selwyn and Jaime.

“Is that what he wants? He looks a bit… in need of air.”

Selwyn and Brienne looked to Jaime whose face was reddening under the lord’s firm hands. “Oh! Sorry. Got a little excited.”

Jaime sat down beside Brienne and gasped for air. She studied his face and whispered for his ears only.

“I told you to be careful. Are you alright?”

“Gods, he’s strong.” Jaime chuckled lightly as he tried to catch his breath.

“Ser Jaime.” Jon’s voice captured Jaime’s and Brienne’s attention. “Is that what you want? You want to be Ser Jaime _Tarth_?”

Jaime nodded in agreement. “Yes.”

With a slight shrug, Jon agreed. “Who am I to refute you. I’m not going by Aegon Targaryen and I’ve spent my life as a Snow.”

“Wait! Truly, he can do that!?” Arya was aghast at Jon’s side.

Jon shrugged. “Why not?”

From down the table, Bran spoke calmly. “It isn’t common, but it has happened before. I’ve seen it; men giving themselves up for their love. They’ve done it as part of a marriage deal or to save a House.”

Bran’s words reminded Brienne of her conversation with the peculiar young man before she left for Tarth.

_“He’s going to give it all up for you…. Himself.”_

Guilt gnawed at Brienne when she took note of Tyrion’s pained expression. Nudging Jaime’s side, she inclined her head towards Tyrion. Jaime sighed before leaning towards Brienne.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll go speak with him.”

From down the table, a wide smile stretched across Arya’s face as she looked to Jaime and Brienne. “Fuck that! Gendry’s taking the name Stark. I want to do what they’re doing.”

Bronn raised his cup in salute to Brienne and Arya. “I’ll take anyone’s name who wants to give me a castle.” Turning towards Jon, Bronn raised a teasing brow and winked.

With a longsuffering sigh, Jon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Truly, Bronn. There’s something wrong with you.”


	24. Vengeance and Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the executions arrives

**Jaime**

The sun crept through the windows and cast long shadows in the room. As Jaime’s eyes fluttered open, he smiled at the sight of Brienne sleeping peacefully in his arms. The night prior had been a blur after the wedding.

Jaime spoke with Tyrion to reassure his brother that this wasn’t mean to be a dismissal of their kinship, but the start of something better for him and Brienne. It didn’t feel right that the Tarth name should die with Selwyn; particularly not when the greatest knight Jaime had ever known was a Tarth. He wanted to atone and start anew. It felt the most appropriate way.

It also felt a symbolic way of leaving behind the demons that plagued him. Nothing good seemed to come from Jaime’s years as a Lannister, but it felt as though something amazing would come from being a Tarth. It took some wine and some convincing, but Tyrion came to understand.

Further, Jaime felt it made the West’s acceptance of Tyrion easier. While Jaime wasn’t technically dead, his life as Tywin’s heir was. The brothers agreed to visit one another regularly whenever the time came that Jaime moved to Tarth. Both Brienne and Jaime wanted to serve Jon for at least a year if not longer.

Pulling Brienne close, Jaime placed gentle kisses to her face and fingers. The feeling of Brienne’s hand on his stump always sent a rush of warmth through Jaime’s body, and today was no different.

By the time they arrived back at the room the night prior, both were tired from a long day of trials, wedding, and feasting. Still, they were certain to consummate their marriage twice for good measure.

As Jaime’s kisses slowly roused Brienne, the sunlight caught her sapphire pools, making them brighter than usual. A lazy smile tugged at her lips as she pressed closer to Jaime.

“Morning.” Her voice betrayed her fatigue as her eyes closed once more.

“My wife is tired. Did we overdo it last night?”

Brienne smiled as her eyes remained closed. “Did we break a shelf last night?”

“A little bit.” Jaime’s eyes darted to the corner shelf at the left of the fireplace. It was thoroughly destroyed.

By the time they had returned to the room, the fire had gone out. Brienne tried to restart one as the room became a bit chilly, but Jaime pounced on her before her effort was complete. In his excitement to tear off her clothing and start a different sort of fire, they fell backwards into the shelf.

A vase had shattered and some books toppled over, but beyond the broken shelf, everything else seemed in order.

“In fairness, that’s what happened when you bring a lion into small spaces with valuables. Clearly you never learned your lesson from taking in stray cats on Tarth”

Brienne snorted; her eyes fluttering open once more as she smiled widely. “This room is not small.”

“Comparatively speaking. We’re two very tall knights. I need a wide berth to ravish my wife. We should just get rid of all the things. I just need a fireplace and bed.”

Rolling on top of Brienne, Jaime made his intentions known as he pushed apart her legs with his knees. “We need to make more Tarths quickly. I hear there are only three left.”

Brienne laughed into Jaime’s mouth as he dove for her lips. When Jaime sank into her with a sigh, Brienne wrapped her legs around Jaime’s hips and hummed. “Well we started yesterday with two and now we have three. That’s a substantial increase.”

“We need much more. We can’t let the Lannisters outnumber us.”

A fit of laughter took hold of Brienne. “Gods. I’ll never be able to walk again if we try to outnumber all your kin.”

Jaime began to move slowly in and out of Brienne. The sensation of her around his cock was incredible; he could never get enough. “I prefer bedding to walking anyway. You’ll be fine.”

Before Brienne could protest, Jaime thrust deeper into her. Any objection died at her lips and was replaced by a moan of pleasure. Taking his time, Jaime brought Brienne over the edge twice before allowing himself to find release. He had little desire to leave their marital bed, but there were things to do and Boltons soldiers to kill.

Later that morning, Jaime and Brienne alongside the other jurors, the small council, and King Jon. A crowd had gathered to watch the execution of the Bolton soldiers; all but one of whom sat in a cell awaiting his trial by combat in an hour’s time.

The other ten soldiers stood beneath trees lining the kingsroad. It was the same spot that Jaime watched Brienne leave with Pod on so many years ago. The men awaiting execution were each placed below a tree with loosely placed nooses around their necks.

Theirs would not be a quick beheading. Arya had determined that they should struggle to their last breath. Northern justice. Many came forward offering to serve as justice. Arya chose who would serve.

Knowing they would need two people to hoist each soldier from the ground, they had been paired off and assigned two prisoners. At Jon’s command, each assigned to a man stepped forward; Jon and Jaime, Selwyn and Pod, Gendry and Arya, Tormund and Tyrion, and Lord Royce and Davos.

The Gold Cloaks stepped back as each pair approached their assigned Bolton soldiers. Each pairing would raise one soldier into the air before tying him off. Then they would move to the second. Arya wanted it to be just as the men did to Brienne.

Standing in the middle of the kingsroad with the Bolton soldiers lining each side, Brienne read the parchment as instructed by Jon.

“In the name of Aegon Targaryen, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm, I, Ser Brienne of House Tarth, do herby sentence you to die.”

At Brienne’s words, the pairs began to hoist their first soldier into the air. A satisfied smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he stared up at the first man, whose feet dangled just above him and Jon. At his side, Jon grumbled.

“We shouldn’t have let Arya decide on this. It’s horrible.”

Glancing back at Arya, Jaime smiled when their eyes met. She was enjoying it as much as he was. It seemed they all were except Tormund. The Wildling wanted to pick apart another soldier, but Jon was adamant that it was far too barbaric and would send the wrong message to the people.

Moving to the next man, Jaime and Jon repeated the process. The only person more pleased by the execution than Arya and Jaime was Selwyn. The older lord looked up viciously at the Bolton soldiers as they struggled for breath.

As their group of executioners stepped towards the middle of the kingsroad, Jaime felt Selwyn’s heavy arm drape over him. He whispered into Jaime’s ear. “Are you certain that you wish to act as the crown’s champion later? I would be very open to helping you on that front.”

A smile befitting his Kingslayer moniker stretched across Jaime’s face. “A Tarth will execute the miserable shit. Just not the one you might prefer.”

Selwyn huffed a small laugh and patted Jaime’s shoulder. “Very well. I suppose I’ll just offer a little encouragement from the stands then.”

True to her word, Brienne did not join the rest of the Kingsguard for the trial by combat. Instead, she met with the maester to ensure the poison for Sansa was properly prepared. As Jaime stood waiting for the Bolton soldier to be brought forward, he glanced to the raised dais where the King, small council, and jurors sat.

A small crowd had formed to watch the trial by combat. Rumor of Jaime’s efforts to save the city not once, but twice, had begun to circulate. If Jaime had to venture a guess, it was Arya’s doing. The young wolf had taken to him of late. They formed a strange friendship of sorts over the moon turn that Brienne was on Tarth.

As the crowd cheered for “their kingslayer”, Arya smirked and feigned innocence when Jaime raised an inquisitive brow at her. It wasn’t long before the last Bolton soldier was brought forth. The crowd grew rowdy as Arya again recited the man’s crime and called for the trial to commence.

The man who stepped before Jaime was half a head shorter with slicked back, dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a nose that appeared broken several times over. He had several scars on his face and arms; a testament to the many fights and battles he had participated in.

At quick glance, the man almost looked like Locke. It was enough to give Jaime all the visual motivation he needed to make the man’s end that much more painful. The Bolton solider lifted a shaky sword towards Jaime as they began to circle on another.

Abruptly, the man lunged forward and swiped from left to right. The soldier was pitifully slow, and Jaime easily stepped back to avoid the blade without so much as raising his sword in defense. Appraising the man, a smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips.

When the solider next lunged forward, Jaime spun out of the way and hit the man hard in the rib with the flat of his blade. He wanted the soldier to know that this would not be quick. He would play with him slowly as a cat would a mouse.

Rounding on Jaime quickly, the man swung his sword aggressively, but Jaime quickly blocked the strike. The strength of Jaime’s block sent the man’s arm backwards hard. It was evident that the weapon he selected was too heavy for him. Flipping Widow’s Wail in hand, Jaime smashed the man in the face with the hilt of his sword.

A loud crack echoed off the arena walls as the man stumbled backwards cursing. Blood poured from the soldier’s face as Jaime stalked forward. Without giving the man a moment to recover, Jaime thrust his blade into the man’s right bicep.

With Widow’s Wail poking through the man’s arm, Jaime twisted the blade before yanking it out. Blood sprayed onto the ground below and the soldier dropped to his knees; clutching his arm in pain. Jaime paced circles around the man and screamed at him to get up.

As the man reached for his blade, he tried to hold the sword lefthanded, but he was awkward and clumsy. Using his right hand to help hold the sword upright, the man’s eyes met Jaime’s. Pain and fear dueled for dominance over the man’s features.

Another sloppy swing from the soldier was easily evaded by Jaime. Sliding left, Jaime cut across the man’s left ankle; slicing through his achilles tendon. The man screamed in pain and dropped to his knees once more. He glanced back at the injury to his ankle and turned to Jaime; his eyes a plea for mercy.

“End it. Just kill me.”

A vicious smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as he shook his head in refute. He slashed across the man’s back as he paced around him. The cut was not deep enough to kill, but enough to bloody the man and send a jolt of pain through his body. 

Rage flashed in the soldier’s eyes as he realized what Jaime was doing. Muttering under his breath, Jaime could have sworn her heard the man say ‘kingslayer’s whore’. The image of Brienne’s body swaying in the breeze flashed in Jaime’s mind and something snapped deep within.

Tackling the man to the ground, Jaime straddled him and unleashed a torrent of blows to the man’s face and chest. When the man began to fade in and out, Jaime grabbed him by the jerkin and hauled him upright.

“You killed the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms. Why!?”

Headbutting the soldier, Jaime watched as he fell backwards to the ground. He paced around the soldiers and glared. When the man only groaned, Jaime kicked him hard. “I asked you _why_! Answer me or I’ll prolong this.”

With a weak voice, the man spoke; his voice heavy with pain and despair. “Kingslayer’s whore. Traitor.”

Jaime’s left hand twitched as he held Widow’s Wail. With a hard slice, he cut off the man’s left arm. Crouching at the man’s side, Jaime placed the flat of his sword over the man’s chest to still him.

“Wrong answer. She’s no whore. She’s my wife.”

The man’s eyes were desperate as tears streaked down the sides of his face. Blood pooled out below the man’s twitching body. Jaime wanted for nothing more than to make the miserable shit suffer more, but he remembered Brienne’s plea. Why she sought to offer the men a more honorable and quick death was beyond Jaime. She was too pure and good for the likes of these men.

Standing upright, Jaime moved between the man’s legs and kicked him hard in the balls. As the man gasped and clutched himself with his right hand, Jaime remembered Brienne’s execution of the Stark men in the Riverlands. _Two quick deaths…_

Pushing his blade slowly into the man’s gut, Jaime watched as pain glistened behind a pool of tears in the man’s eyes. Staring at the man, Jaime spoke through gritted teeth.

“She’s worth more than you and your miserable friends combined. I’m sure they’ll be waiting for you in the seven hells. They all took their turn swinging in the breeze.”

As life left the man’s body, Jaime yanked the blade out. The sickening sound of flesh and tendons clinging to the blade on the way out lifted in the air. Stepping back from the man’s body, Jaime realized how quiet the arena had gone.

Glancing into the king’s box, Jaime saw the satisfied expressions of Selwyn, Pod, Tyrion, Arya, and Tormund. Jon looked relieved that it was over, and Jaime knew the king had worried that the trial may be too violent.

With a slight bow to the king, Jaime stepped over the dead soldier’s body. He moved wordlessly towards the castle with intent to remove any traces of the fight before finding Brienne. Sansa’s execution would be next, and Jaime wanted to offer Brienne what little comfort he could.

_This wasn’t enough. We should have executed them all in a much more painful fashion. I hope someday that Brienne understands. That she understands how important she is to so many people._

**Brienne**

Sitting beside Arya and Bran in a small study, Brienne gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper. Jaime paced before them as the group awaited the Gold Cloaks to bring Sansa into the room. It saddened Brienne that it had come to this, but Bran was confident that there was no other way.

Glancing to Arya, Brienne could see the sadness in the young woman’s eyes. Brienne hadn’t remembered much of her time with Arya _before_ her death, but from what she observed of the young woman, it was evident that Arya was not one to show her emotions.

The door creaked open and two gold cloaks pulled Sansa into the room. As she had been in the throne room yesterday, Sansa tilted up her chin and refused to show fear. The young woman’s eyes scanned the room and settled on Jaime. Hate shone in her eyes as she appraised him. As instructed, the guards maneuvered Sansa to her knees before Arya, Bran, and Brienne.

Jaime had begged Brienne not to offer Sansa any warmth or solace during her final moments, but Brienne refused. So long as Sansa would allow her there, Brienne would try to offer whatever comfort she could.

Brienne remembered more of Sansa than others. She remembered the resolve she felt to find the young woman. She remembered the moment she found Sansa; scared and cowering in the woods. She remembered the young woman’s smile when Brienne and Pod returned to Winterfell after the battle with House Bolton.

Brienne did not recall anything else, but she heard of it from Jaime, Jon, Pod, and Bran. While she could not forgive the young woman for killing the babe growing in her womb, Brienne could offer a final kindness to a girl who had been tortured by others for years.

A heavy silence fell over the room as Sansa’s nostrils flared in rage. Taking a deep breath, Jaime twirled the poison in his fingers.

“Because of your kin and my _wife_ , you are being afforded a kindness which you don’t deserve.”

At the implication that Jaime and Brienne had wed, Sansa’s eyes darted to Brienne. She looked irritated as her eyes slowly moved to the floor just before her.

“This poison will ensure a painless death. You have my word… for whatever it’s worth to you.”

At Jaime’s words, Sansa looked to the vial in his hand. She eyed it suspiciously before looking to her siblings. Bran nodded slowly as if answering an unspoken question.

Handing Sansa the poison, Jaime spoke once more. “You drink this and accept their kindness, or you get my blade at your neck. Your choice.”

Sansa snatched the vial from Jaime and drank the liquid quickly. Chucking the vial across the floor, she snarled at Jaime.

“Your House is the true evil in this world. You ruin everything you touch.”

A cutting smile tugged at Jaime’s lips. “I hardly know what you mean by that. House Tarth is nothing but honorable, just, and loyal. I’m proud to be one of the few remaining.”

Without another word, Jaime stormed out of the room with the gold cloaks at his back. Sansa’s eyes went wide as Arya stood from her chair. The young wolf walked slowly towards Sansa and sank to her knees before her sister.

“I didn’t lie to you. Ser Jaime stayed true to our cause. He killed Cersei. He is Ser Jaime Tarth now. All his ties with House Lannister are gone. House Lannister is now led by Lord Tyrion; a friend of the crown. A friend of yours. With House Tarth ruling the Stormlands, we could have been unstoppable together. House Tarth, House Lannister, and House Stark. I miss you. Not the woman you became. The girl you were. My sister.”

Sansa’s chin quivered as she broke eye contact with Arya. Brienne slowly stood from her chair and kneeled at Arya’s side.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Sansa. I’m still glad that I found you. Glad that I served as your sworn sword for a time.”

Sansa swallowed thickly, but she refused to meet Brienne’s eyes. A slight tremble shook Sansa’s body. Brienne could not tell if it was from fear, sorrow, or the poison. Reaching out for Sansa’s hand, Brienne saw the young woman recoil. Rage flashed in Sansa’s eyes and she snapped at Brienne.

“Don’t touch me! Kingslayer’s Whore!”

Brienne had heard the rumors and moniker, but she had wondered if it had been freely spoken to her face. No memories had returned of anyone using the title before her. At Sansa’s outburst, Brienne felt, as much as she saw, the memory play out. She was in Sansa’s study at Winterfell as the young woman glared at her.

_“So the rumors are true. You truly are the Kingslayer’s Whore?... You were at Joffrey’s wedding. Cersei spoke to you. I assume you recall what she looks like. Did you truly believe someone like him could desire someone like you after having her? You betrayed us when you let him ride south to save his twin. You betrayed me. You failed me.”_

Pulling back her hand, Brienne felt tears form at the back of her eyes. She felt like a fool for trying to comfort a young woman who hated her so much. It seemed best to afford the Starks their time alone.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll step outside.”

Brienne moved to leave, but a firm hand grabbed her forearm. “Don’t leave me!”

Frightened eyes met Brienne’s. The young woman looked between Brienne and Arya; a wordless request on her face. With a nod, Brienne sat back on her heels. Placing a consoling hand on Sansa’s which still clutched at Brienne’s forearm, Brienne exhaled loudly. She saw Arya reach out to take Sansa’s other hand.

Arya’s voice was heavy with tears when she spoke; her hand gripping Sansa’s hand firmly. “Mother and father will be there. You’ll be alright. Robb and Rickon too.”

“No! It’s nothing! Just darkness. That’s what Jon said.” Sansa began to struggle to breathe as she panicked.

According to the maester, the poison wouldn’t cause difficulty breathing, so Brienne knew it to be fear. Taking a deep breath, Brienne shook her head and lied.

“It isn’t darkness. I think it was that way for Jon because he was only dead briefly. I was dead almost a day. It was… beautiful. Warm and sunny. My mother, brother, and sisters were there.”

Brienne had never been good at lying, but she needed to be convincing now more than ever. She resisted the urge to grab her sword hilt or allow her eyes to dart away. When Sansa looked deep into her eyes, Brienne forced herself to hold the young woman’s stare.

_Do this for Sansa. She deserves this final kindness._

“Truly?” Sansa’s eyes assessed Brienne questioningly. A degree of mistrust was there, but Brienne held firm.

“I got to play with my siblings again. Galladon beat in a spar me as always. He was always better than me.”

Silent tears fell from Sansa’s eyes as she began to sway. The poison would encourage her to sleep eternally. The maetser noted she might ramble or behave differently than usual. From what Brienne could tell, Sansa just looked sad and sleepy.

As Sansa swayed, Arya shuffled closer and pulled Sansa to her shoulder. The grip on Brienne’s forearm loosened, but still, the young woman did not let go. As her eyes grew heavy, Sansa mumbled from Arya’s shoulder.

“What else… was… there?

“I saw your mother too. She said that she was very proud of you. You were so brave.”

Brienne cursed herself inwardly that she couldn’t remember much more, but she spoke to what she knew.

“She saw you reclaim Winterfell for your House. It made her happy.”

A small smile tugged at Sansa’s lips as her eyes closed. She mumbled to herself as her grip on Brienne’s forearm went slack.

Arya sobbed loudly as Sansa’s body sagged against her chest. Tears that Brienne didn’t realize were threatening to spill, streaked down her cheeks. Glancing back at Bran, Brienne saw the young man’s face fall in sorrow.

Neither sibling wanted Sansa to die, but they knew she had to. The little girl was too far gone and the woman remaining was too fixated on vengeance. Brienne saw it when Sansa glared at Jaime moments earlier. Nothing would convince Sansa that he was not her enemy.

It was the only reason that Brienne could bear the hurt. She couldn’t lose Jaime. As Arya sobbed, Brienne put a comforting around the young woman.

“I’m so sorry, Arya.”

Arya choked on a sob and tried to compose herself. “We’ll get her home to Winterfell. She needs to be in the crypts with our kin. Thank you… for lying to her.”

_I wish I could have done more._


	25. Rebuilding and Enhancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three moons after the wedding and executions, Westeros is rebuilding.

**Brienne**

It had been three moons since Arya, Tormund, and the escort of Northern soldiers left for Winterfell with Sansa’s body. Three moons since Selwyn left for Tarth. Brienne hadn’t expected to miss her father and Arya as much as she did, but the castle seemed quieter without them.

Brienne found no shortage of matters to tend to. Given her position and work ethic, Jon let Brienne take the lead on reforming the Kingsguard. While Jon had filled five of seven vacancies, including appointing Brienne and Pod, there were still two more knights to name to the Kingsguard.

With the change to allow Kingsguard to marry and serve at will, there were more knights interested than ever before. Brienne’s first step was naming the final two Kingsugard. With Jaime’s advice, Brienne appointed two, highly skilled, worthy knights; one from the Reach and one from the Riverlands.

To ensure the men stayed sharp, Brienne had them train daily in the yards and spar two on one. The men both loathed and loved it. One of the younger Kingsguard, Ser Harold, japed that he felt less worn out by battle than serving in the Kingsguard. The only prior member of the Kingsguard, Ser Boros, guffawed and chimed in.

“Trust me, it was never this difficult before. We spent our days leaning against walls while the king or queen sat in a room pissing and moaning over political matters. Ser Brienne won’t let us get ale bellies; that’s for sure.”

Another adjustment that Brienne made was introducing a training program for squires and knights. Given the heavy losses to skilled soldiers and knights over the years, Brienne thought it would serve well to encourage the youth to take up arms. They would recruit young and enter the strongest prospects into a squire program at the Red Keep.

Citizens, Houses, and Great Houses began sending their prospects to King’s Landing for consideration. Everyone wanted to have their children train with the first female knight of the Seven Kingdoms under an honorable ruler, King Jon.

From the squire program, anyone knighted could serve as a shift commander to the Gold Cloaks under Bronn’s leadership. While the sellsword was improper at best, he took his job seriously and Brienne was impressed with the reforms he made to the Gold Cloaks.

An added benefit to the program was the ever-ready pool of Kingsguard candidates. When Kingsguard elected to leave and pursue other interests, Jon and Brienne would have a strong group of knights to select a replacement from.

A side project for Brienne was recruiting and training young girls. She had little desire to remain the only female knight in the Seven Kingdoms, and even less desire to be surrounded by only men all day.

While the men were all kind and respectful to Brienne, it was a lot to be the only woman knight in a sea of men. The men’s nightly activities made tales of Pod’s behavior in the city seem the picture of propriety.

Further, the other Kingsguard stunk to the seven hells, and Brienne could hardly take it in the White Sword Tower. She maintained her office there, and she was certain to spend ample time among the men to foster comradery, but Brienne’s senses could only take so much assault.

_Gods. We need to get them a second set of armor and some backup clothing. This is worse than what little I can remember of tending to Jaime in the Riverlands while he was with fever._

Today proved no different. Brienne stood on guard beside Pod, as Jon met with the newly formed Council of the Seven. Her nose scrunched in disgust, as a breeze caught Brienne downwind from her former squire. Muttering under her breath so as not to disturb the meeting, Brienne glanced at Pod.

“By the seven, Pod. When was the last time you bathed?”

Pod shuffled on his feet and shrugged. “I was in the city with Bronn and Lord Tyrion last night, ser. Somehow I didn’t make it to the baths before bed.”

Brienne snorted and shook her head. “No, I imagine not.” With a sigh, Brienne cast a sideways glance at the young knight. “I do hope that in a year’s time when we’re patrolling the city, I don’t see herds of mini Pods in a brothel workers’ arms.”

The young man’s face reddened. “No, my lady. I mean Ser. Lod Tyrion doesn’t partake, and I usually stay with him when Bronn leaves us to find a lady. We just have ale or wine.”

Considering the words, Brienne looked to Pod with furrowed brows. “Is Lord Tyrion happy? I don’t much remember him from _before_ , but he strikes me as a bit… lost. Does that make sense?”

Pod nodded slowly. “It does and I understand what you mean. He is much changed from when I first squired for him. I’ve spoken a good deal with him on the topic. He’s lonely and tired of participating in small council.”

The words surprised Brienne. Turning to face Pod, Brienne glanced towards the council before speaking. “He is Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. Why not return home then? I imagine they could use his aid. From what Jaime said, the Castellan who Tyrion appointed doesn’t sound as competent.”

Pod hummed and nodded. “Ser Daven Lannister. He sounds like a good man, but he doesn’t have the mind for it as Tyrion does. He wants Tyrion to return and take rule, but Tyrion wishes to stay longer. He doesn’t want to leave until you and Jaime do. He’s lonely without a lady of his own, but he also fears losing Ser Jaime. I get the sense they were quite close as children. Tyrion told me some stories. Ser Jaime protected Tyrion from much of it; the abuse that is.”

Brienne’s heart sank at the words. While he could be a bit meddling, Tyrion struck Brienne as well-intentioned and highly intelligent. It was evident that he loved Jaime immensely and would do anything for his brother. Considering Pod’s insight, Brienne pondered how to do more for Tyrion.

Soon the council concluded, and Brienne moved towards Jon. The king had formed a special council as Westeros rebuilt. Each liege lord or lady sent an emissary to participate and provide word on what their kingdom needed. 

Ser Manfrey had sent Lady Sylva Santagar to represent Dorne. She was a few years older than Jon, and she had previously been betrothed to a man fifty years her senior. The heir to Spottswood, she was known in Dorne as Spotted Sylva on account of her freckled skin. It had not escaped Brienne how taken with Lady Sylva their king appeared to be.

As Jon walked towards Brienne and Pod with Sylva at his side, an easy smile spread across his face. Brienne huffed a small laugh and shook her head slightly.

_Well he’s a lost cause._

The pair spoke in hushed tones for a moment before parting ways. When Jon looked to Brienne, his cheeks pinked at Brienne’s knowing expression.

It was Brienne’s duty to guard her king’s secrets, and this was one she kept to herself. Not even Jaime had noticed the growing affection between the pair, but Brienne recognized it. For most of Brienne’s life, she had been an observer.

She never had friends as a child and few people wished to engage her in conversation. As such, Brienne often played the role of observer. It was how Brienne recognized early on that Renly fancied men. If people took the time to look closer at others and actually listen, they might see things as she did.

Brienne had said as much to Jaime once. She had rather accurately predicted an affair between two castle staff. The woman’s husband worked in the kitchens and secured her a job as a chambermaid. Brienne observed the woman’s warm glances and secretive smiles with one of the men who worked in the stables.

Jaime had scoffed and insisted that Brienne wasn’t busy enough with her Kingsguard work if she took the time to invent such tales. For Brienne however, it felt like part of her job.

_“I’m supposed to see everything going on around the king, just as Bran would see threats across the kingdoms. My job is literally to observe and protect. Not react and protect.”_

Jaime had snorted and shook his head.

_“Please. I was openly pining after you for years and you hardly noticed. Only Daenerys’ and Cersei’s madness were more obvious.”_

It was different though. To Brienne, it felt as though being desired or loved was impossible. It never seemed a possibility. For others, the truth appeared clear as day. Not even a week later, the scandal was the talk of the castle staff.

Brienne smugly drank her morning tea as Jaime sat slack jawed hearing Bronn retell the drama of it all. The husband found out the night prior and tried to take a kitchen knife to the stable worker’s cock.

Now as Brienne walked alongside Jon towards the Keep, she felt the king’s eyes on her. “Go on. Say it.”

“Say what, your grace?” A small smile tugged at Brienne’s lips. The sight of it made Jon chuckle.

“Gods. I never have to fear my secrets getting out with you, do I? Telle me the truth of it. Am I as pathetic about it as I fear?”

Brienne shrugged and fixed her eyes forward, as Pod flanked Jon’s other side.

“It isn’t my business to judge how pathetic you are or are not.” Taking a momentary pause, Brienne’s lips pulled up at the corners. “I might suggest supper in the gardens. The stars make for a nice setting.”

The king huffed a laugh and shook his head. “No thank you. I don’t want to risk encountering that fool husband of yours trying to make Tarth’s heir on the veranda.”

Brienne felt the heat creeping up her neck. She inwardly reprimanded Jaime for his ridiculous behavior just over a moon turn ago. Jon had given them both the next day off from their duties to enjoy Jaime’s nameday.

They had far too much wine with Tyrion, Bronn, and Pod that evening. When they realized they did not have the stomach for alcohol as the other three did, Jaime insisted on a walk through the gardens to clear his head.

What Brienne had not expected was Jaime to pounce on her as he did their wedding night. A fit of laughter had taken Brienne and she struggled to push him off her; the setting far too inappropriate for his attempted activities. By the time she pushed him off and righted herself, Jon was quickly walking the opposite direction.

Jon teased her relentlessly for days after.

“That was _one time_ , your grace. Fortunately, the cooler head prevailed, and no such misconduct occurred.”

Jon threw back his head and laughed. “Aye. The cooler head. Are you implying the head north of Ser Jaime’s waist or your own?”

_Seven take me now._

As Brienne’s face began to look more like the Lannister banner, Jon chuckled and grabbed her arm. “Ser, I’m japing with you. I’ve seen far worse than a married couple having some innocent fun to celebrate a nameday.” Removing any mirth from his voice, Jon glanced at Pod who was pretending to be anywhere but beside them.

Jon lowered his voice and leaned in. “Did you see the maester?”

Brienne averted her eyes to the ground and nodded slowly in affirmation. It stung to think on, but she forced a smile and looked to Jon. “He said things seem fine. It could just take a while.”

Only Jon and Tyrion knew of Jaime’s and Brienne’s attempt for a babe. They knew they could never replace the babe they lost, but they wished to try again. Jaime was particularly eager despite Brienne’s reservations. Brienne worried about the consequences of having a child.

_What if he or she looks like me? What an awful fate to bestow upon a new life._

Brienne didn’t recall being pregnant the first time, nor did she recall discussing the matter with Jaime at Winterfell. It didn’t strike Brienne as something they would have discussed if neither had confessed their feelings. More likely, the babe was an unintended consequence of regular coupling.

Brienne had wondered why she didn’t drink moon tea to prevent a babe. Either she was distracted by everything going on, or blissfully unaware of the consequences. Her body was often unpredictable, and she remembered thinking it impossible to have a babe.

As a young woman on Tarth, the maester told Brienne that it was not uncommon for physically active females to report irregularities in their moonblood. He had studied about female warriors across the Narrow Sea while at the Citadel. Brienne reconciled that it was just another way her body would fail her.

With no marriage prospects nor men willing to look upon her for longer than the moment it took to deem her ugly, Brienne thought little of it. It was partly why she struggled to believe that she had been pregnant at Winterfell.

_Did my moonblood become more regular over time? I last remember rarely getting it at Renly’s camp. How can I not remember my own body?_

Of course, now that Jaime and Brienne wanted a babe, it didn’t happen. As happened in her youth, Brienne’s moonblood became unpredictable. Brienne wished she had her mother or a female friend to confide in, but all she had were the two men at her side.

Given Pod did not know that Brienne and Jaime were trying for a babe, speaking to him was not an option. Further, Pod felt more like a son to Brienne than a peer.

Brienne also had little desire to discuss her moonblood with Jon, but the king knew of the couple’s intent and asked Brienne teasingly days ago if they had any announcements to make soon. She recalled the awkwardness that followed.

_“No. I don’t even know if the first time was real to be honest. My body has never cooperated on such things. I hope that I don’t let Jaime down.”_

Brienne didn’t know what to expect from Jon in response, but it was not the answer she received.

_“You should see the maester for reassurance. It might set your mind at ease. These things can take time.”_

When Brienne only looked to him wide-eyed, Jon smirked.

_“Give me some credit. I grew up with a woman who bore her lord husband five children. I had two quasi -and a host of their friends running about all the time. They were awful when their moonblood came.”_

A warm hand touched Brienne’s shoulder and shook her from the memory. Meeting Jon’s eyes, Brienne smiled at the sympathy there.

“As I said the other day, give it time. You’ve only been wed three moons and your husband seems more than eager to put in the effort. Besides, I need your help, and selfishly I’ll get more of it if you don’t have a babe in your arms. Don’t burden yourself.”

**Jaime**

The study Jaime and Tyrion sat in was stuffy and dark. His eyes hurt from the ledgers they had been looking over for hours. Rubbing at his forehead, Jaime turned to Tyrion.

“You’re certain this is all of it? The crown is truly that poor off?”

Tyrion snorted and threw the book in his hands to the center of the table. He leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What can I say? Our sweet sister did have a penchant for the finer things; including the Golden Company. It’s all gone. The coin from Highgarden. The crown’s funds. She even dipped into the West’s gold it seems. Daven sent a copy of the Rock’s ledger and I’m shocked by it, truly. Father would be rolling in his grave to know we’re now one of the poorest Great Houses.”

A teasing smile stretched across Jaime’s face as he clapped Tyrion’s shoulder. “Speak for yourself, little brother. I’m a Tarth. I’m rich in sapphires.”

An exaggerated eyeroll greeted Jaime’s smile before Tyrion snorted. Studying Jaime’s face, Tyrion narrowed his eyes and questioned Jaime.

“Anymore memories come back yet?”

Jaime felt his spirits fall slightly. It had been three moons and no additional memories returned to Brienne. Her nightmares however were a different story.

“Nothing. Her nightmares are getting worse though. She dreams of the army of the dead and losing the babe. When she wakes, she doesn’t remember, but she is desperate to know of it all. I can’t do it. I don’t want to tell her of those things.”

Tyrion huffed a small laugh. “Well I can imagine not wanting to discuss the dead. I only faced some rotting Stark carcasses and that was more than enough for me. I can’t imagine facing over 100,000 of them. It’s best she doesn’t remember that. As for the babe, what can you be expected to say? You weren’t even there. You know as much as she does.”

Jaime closed his eyes; his head dropping as he grimaced. “Bran showed me. He showed me when he showed me the other pain that I caused her.”

A heavy sigh pushed past Tyron’s lips. When Jaime felt Tyrion’s hand on his shoulder, he opened his eyes and glanced to his brother. Tyrion’s eyes were fixed on the table; a slight distance in them.

“I’m sorry, Jaime. I can’t imagine that scene.”

_And I can’t forget it. It’s etched in my mind as is the sight of her swaying in the breeze._

“She was in so much pain. It was the only time I’ve ever seen her look frightened. There was so much…” _Blood._

Jaime cut himself off. He wanted to claw the image out of his mind, but it would haunt him until his dying day. Taking a deep breath, Jaime met Tyrion’s eyes.

“I’m afraid she’ll remember when we go North for the wedding. I don’t know what I’ll do then.”

Arya’s wedding was to be in just over a moon turn. Jon, Jaime, Bran, and Brienne would make the journey north with the rest of the small council remaining behind. They would travel with the entire Kingsguard, Bronn, and fifty Gold Cloaks.

“So you’ve not been able to convinced her to remain behind?” Tyrion’s voice betrayed his concern for Brienne. It was a debate that returned of late.

Jaime understood Brienne’s desire to attend. While Brienne hadn’t remembered much of Arya from _before_ , she remembered her oath to Lady Stark and felt a duty to the young woman. Further, the women had grown close in King’s Landing.

Arya and Brienne had much in common, and they seemed to draw strength from one another. After Sansa’s execution, the pair had become inseparable for the days preceding Arya’s departure. Further, the pair had taken to writing one another since Arya’s return to Winterfell.

They exchanged ideas and encouragement where the other had doubts and questions. They shared suggestions on training tactics and commanding groups of unruly soldiers. They also vented to one another about their troubles. Jaime thought it wonderful that Brienne was able to remain close to one of Catelyn’s daughters given everything that happened.

Suffice it to say, Arya had invited both Brienne and Jaime.

“I’d have better luck convincing Brienne that she is the most lovable woman in the Seven Kingdoms than convincing her to stay in King’s Landing.”

Tyrion chuckled at the words, but his face fell. “She’ll have you there should the need arise. Your love was enough to bring her back from death and restore some of her memory. I’m certain it will be enough to console her.”

Jaime nodded and glanced back at the ledger before him. After a momentary silence, Tyrion’s teasing voice reached his ears.

“You know, Tormund will be there and what better time to discuss this trade proposal.”

Jaime groaned and leaned back in his chair. “No. Please, show mercy. Don’t make me speak with Tormund while I’m there.”

To aid the crown’s plight, Tyrion and Jaime had drafted trade proposals with the Wildlings, Pentos, Braavos, and Myr. They had spoken with Jon’s new council to discuss opportunities that each kingdom presented for trade with the aforementioned groups. It would take time, but they felt the plan strong in the crown’s effort to rebuild and replenish its treasury.

Tyrion chuckled and raised a teasing brow. “If you don’t wish to speak with Tormund, I understand and will not ask it of you. I’ll have Brienne speak with him.”

“No! I’ll speak with the savage. Gods. I hope they still have ample stores of wine there.”

Tyrion snickered at Jaime’s side and patted his back. “Wine. Ale. Goat’s milk. Whatever it takes to get the job done.”


	26. Remembering and Forgetting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime travel north for Arya's wedding.

**Brienne**

The evening air was cool against Brienne’s skin as she stood beside Pod. They were just over a fortnight into the journey north for Arya’s wedding. Despite the size of their escort, they moved relatively fast along the kingsroad.

Jaime had been unbearable since leaving the Red Keep. He feared that Brienne would remember the unpleasantries of her last journey along the kingsroad, but for Brienne, the travel seemed little more than a nuisance.

She was eager to see Arya and watch the young woman exchange vows with the man she loved. The process of getting there however was torturous. They had preferred to take a ship to White Harbor to spare a fortnight of riding and camping, but Jon preferred avoiding the seas.

Given her inability to remember the events from recent years, Brienne couldn’t find a reasonable counter to Jon’s preference to travel by land. He had grimaced at memories that Brienne had little context for.

A trip north from Dragonstone with a new ally and something more in Daenerys. An attack by Euron’s fleet that Jon felt triggered his queen’s madness.

Despite the lack of context, Brienne understood when to leave things be with the young king. Jon rarely put up a fuss, so they obliged him.

Every night, Brienne assigned lookouts to the north, south, east, and west. While there were enough men that she did not regularly find herself on duty, tonight was one such night that she opted to play the role of lookout.

With Pod at her side, they set out just north of the encampment. Brienne hadn’t the chance to tell Jaime that he would find himself alone that evening. He and Jon had been meeting privately to discuss details of a matter in the Reach. Lord Paxter Redwyn’s twin sons were dueling over inheritance.

The older lord had passed away peacefully a week ago, but his sons were squabbling and trying to involve other vassals. It reminded Brienne of the Baratheon brothers.

Once they were far enough from the encampment to keep an eye out for threats, Brienne instructed Pod to setup a small camp while she collected firewood. The damp nights made it difficult to find adequate kindling, and Brienne found they needed to walk into heavier wooded areas just off the kingsroad to find dry enough firewood.

Trudging through heavy brush, Brienne muttered to herself. It was another night in the cold when they could have been closer to Winterfell after sailing to White Harbor. Reaching down, Brienne felt some fallen limbs and grumbled at the moisture lining them.

With an audible sigh, Brienne walked further into the woods. Her feet kicked at fallen branches and twigs; testing them for signs of dryness. She walked for some time with little success. Only a small bundle of kindling was collected in her arms.

As the sun began to set, Brienne tried to move faster. Then she stepped on something that made her take pause.

Bending down, Brienne picked up what appeared to be a sign. The words on it were faded from precipitation and decay. Studying the sign, Brienne could barely make out letters.

‘. . n g . l . . e . . . . o . r e”

Brienne sighed and appraised the piece. It was too wet to use for kindling and she threw it back to the ground. Looking up, she realized that she was at the edge of a small clearing. A cold chill ran down her spine, and she saw a vivid image of her body dangling from the tree before her.

It felt like a punch to the gut as Brienne realized where she was. She stood unmoving as the memory played out in her mind. The sensation of the soldiers punching and kicking her chest, head, and back flooded her mind. Dropping the firewood in her arms, Brienne reached for her neck.

She gasped at the sensation of a rope tightening around her throat as she stared at the tree just ahead. Stepping backwards in a panic, Brienne tripped over the discarded sign. She fell to the ground and gasped.

Without begin able to see the words, Brienne realized its purpose. The sign had been irrelevant at the time. All Brienne had cared about was trying to flee. Now she recalled with lucidity how the men had draped it around her neck as she was hoisted into the air.

Brienne called out; her voice a desperate whisper in the cool, evening air. “Pod…”

Getting up, Brienne looked around frantically and tried to retrace her steps. She needed to get away from the clearing and make her way back to Pod. In her head, she could hear the men’s taunts and the sound of their fists and feet meeting her body.

To her right, Brienne heard Jaime and Pod calling out for her. They sounded as frantic as Brienne felt. Following their voices, Brienne moved away from the clearing and towards them. When she saw the back of Pod’s head as he moved quickly through some thickets, Brienne yelled out to him.

Pod turned instantly and sagged with relief. “Ser Jaime! She’s over here!”

Running towards Pod, Brienne felt as though she couldn’t breathe. It felt so vivid and a desperate urge to get away from the clearing at her back urged her forward. Before she reached Pod, Jaime sprinted towards her. His eyes were wide as he appraised her.

“Brienne! Here. I’m here!” Jaime crashed into Brienne and held her close to his chest. Sagging to the ground, Brienne tried to catch her breath. The men’s voices faded away as Jaime spoke reassuring words into her ear.

Pod approached and apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize the location.”

Jaime seemed uninterested in Pod’s apology. He held Brienne tightly and spoke softly into her ears. “Of all the times to take watch, Brienne. Fucking hells.”

After collecting herself, Brienne let Jaime guide her towards the kingsroad. He explained that when one of the kingsguard informed Jaime of Brienne’s whereabouts, he had taken off from camp in the direction the men saw Pod and Brienne go.

When the stepped onto the road, Ser Boros stood waiting for them by the camp Pod setup.

“I’ll take watch with Ser Pod, Ser Brienne.” The older knight bowed as he began to light kindling brought from the main camp. Directing Brienne towards his horse, Jaime studied her face closely. Brienne hated the attention she brought upon herself.

It was disorienting and upsetting to have found herself at the place where she was killed. She was happy that Pod and Jaime found her, but it was a memory she would rather have left in her last life.

Jaime climbed onto the horse behind her and led them back to camp. His grip around her waist and the feel of his cheek pressed close to hers, reminded Brienne of the journey from Volantis to King’s Landing.

His presence was soothing and served to ease the pain that the memory brought. When they arrived back at camp, Jon looked to Jaime inquiringly. Whatever he saw on Jaime’s face told Jon all that he needed to know.

With a grimace, Jon approached as one of the Gold Cloaks took the horse for them.

“I’m sorry. Perhaps we should have sailed. Had I known you intended to play lookout tonight, I would have objected.”

Brienne raised a brow at Jon. The regret on his face made Brienne feel badly for the scene she likely caused at camp.

“It’s fine. What are the odds that I look for kindling in _that_ direction? It’s my own fault, really.”

With an irritated huff, Jaime grabbed Brienne’s hand and led her towards their tent. It mattered little to Brienne where she slept that point. The memory acquired refused to leave. As the tent flapped closed behind them, Jaime pulled her into a firm embrace.

“I’m sorry. I wish you had told me that you put yourself on rotation _again_. We have plenty of Gold Cloaks that could take shifts with the other Kingsgaurd.”

It was not the first time that Jaime had voiced the complaint. In truth, Brienne preferred taking on the role of lookout. She trusted her sworn brothers, but Brienne was less at ease with the Gold Cloaks playing lookout.

If they were to be attacked, it was important to have the most capable to fend off a threat while alerting the main camp.

Pulling her to the bedrolls in the corner of the tent, Jaime encouraged Brienne to lay down. The feel of his body pressed close to hers was reassuring and a welcome sensation. Despite the early hour, Brienne fell asleep with Jaime’s arms wrapped protectively around her.

That night when the nightmares came, Brienne remembered them upon waking. It was a lucid dream of soldiers, a noose, and death. Green eyes watched her die before turning away. It hurt, but Jaime was there to soothe her trauma.

**Jaime**

Jaime had never been so relieved to see Winterfell as when they arrived the day prior. Making the journey by land had been a miserable trip. The only thing worse for Jaime had been the prior two trips along the kingsroad.

Jaime’s greatest fear had come true on the journey north, and he wasn’t with Brienne when it happened. When he heard that Brienne and Pod were lookouts to the north, Jaime knew it would be his luck that she stumble upon _that_ location.

While Brienne didn’t remember it, Jamie would never forget the location. He dreaded approaching the area for days and had planned to hold Brienne close that night. When Ser Boros informed him of Brienne’s departure from camp, panic had set in.

Arriving at the castle had been another fear. When they had entered the courtyard and Brienne’s brows furrowed, Jaime held his breath. It had been some moons ago that Brienne remembered the conversation in the courtyard, but returning to the very location itself was a separate matter.

Instead, the first thing Brienne had said was unexpected. “Why is that man looking at me strangely? Did I offend him previously?”

Jaime’s eyes had scanned the courtyard and landed on the stable master. While Brienne was on Tarth for the moon before she became Lady Commander, Jaime had asked Bran why Brienne was without a horse for the journey south.

It was not one of the visions that Bran had shared. The answer did not sit well with Jaime, nor did his observation of the man’s continued presence at Winterfell.

Approaching slowly with his horse and Brienne’s, Jaime glared at the man.

“M’lord Hand.” The man had bowed his head and refused to meet Jaime’s eyes.

Reaching into his pocket, Jaime produced a Gold Dragon. He held it before the man’s face. “Is this enough to cover the horse that I borrowed from Winterfell, or has that debt already been paid?”

At Jaime’s words, the man’s head had snapped up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, m’lord. I… I didn’t know. Lady Sansa said…”

“Sansa. She was stripped of her lands and titles some moons ago before she admitted guilt in committing treason, conspiracy, and murder.”

The man had swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yes m’lord. Lady Arya told me. I only meant to say that Sansa instructed me not to let Ser Brienne leave with a horse. That she and you were traitors to the North. I didn’t know the truth.”

“My _wife_ is not a traitor. Your former lady was. I’m quite surprised that you’re still the stable master here.”

The man’s eyes fell before darting towards the castle. “I’m not m’lord. Lady Arya said that I’m to serve House Stark in whatever manner she chooses until my debt to House Tarth is paid in full. She withholds half my pay and sends it to Lord Tyrion. He was instructed to use it for funding the Lady Commander’s training program for young lady knights.”

Jaime had smiled inwardly at Arya’s decision. Now as he sat in the room they had been assigned, Jaime smiled warmly at Brienne. She sat on the edge of the bed polishing Oathkeeper, entirely unaware that Jaime was staring at her. They would need to head down for the wedding shortly, and both had just finished bathing and changing.

Like Brienne, Arya wanted nothing to do with a wedding dress. Instead, she planned to wear breeches and a jerkin. The young wolf had inquired earlier if Brienne would dress similarly or where an ‘awful’ dress. Brienne had chuckled at the question and shook her head.

“I don’t even own a dress.”

Jaime’s eyes roamed Brienne’s body as she sat on the edge of the bed. Unlike her last time in Winterfell, Brienne wore southern clothing now. Her father sent a seamstress from Tarth a moon turn after his departure. He wished for his daughter and goodson to look like proper Tarths while in the capital.

They were both fitted with colors and stylings befitting Tarth. It was that same attire which they both wore now. Jaime had chuckled inwardly as he donned blue instead of crimson for the first time at a formal event. It was a strange sensation, but a welcome change.

Brienne’s breeches were tight fitted and grey. They showed off her long, lean legs and Jaime enjoyed admiring them as she moved. A rose-colored tunic was covered by a blue jerkin with feminine cuts. The neckline was much more southern than the Northern jerkins she previously wore. Jaime appreciated they style change as much as his new name.

The exposure of her long neck distracted Jaime often. As the firelight danced on her skin, Jaime felt his cock twitch.

_Gods. When can this wedding and feast be over with so that I can enjoy my wife?_

As Brienne sheathed Oathkeeper and placed it by the fire, Jaime grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. His hand grabbed at her breast as his lips sought out her neck.

“Jaime. We have to go to the godswood shortly.”

Jaime hummed into her skin and lifted her as he stood. “I’d rather not be quick, but if you insist…”

“I did not insist on this! Put me down.”

Jaime smiled and obliged, throwing her onto the bed. “As you command.”

He climbed over Brienne and chuckled as she cast a warning glance. Despite the warning, Jaime knew it was all for show. There was no severity in her eyes as was often the case when she meant it.

“I prefer you in Tarth colors to those dreary Northern colors you once wore. I prefer you even more in naught by your nameday suit.”

Sometime later, they emerged from the room looking slightly more disheveled, but presentable. The wedding was in the godswood before the old gods. Arya was dressed in a formal set of breeches and jerkin befitting the north; a mix of greys and blacks. Gendry, who would soon be Gendry Stark, donned similar colors and styles.

Glancing around the godswood, Jaime could see pride swelling the chests of those assembled. Arya was the Stark most like her lord father.

A hint of a smile had tugged at her lips when Jon presented her to Gendry, and it had yet to leave her face. Jaime considered the young couple. He felt they would make fine leaders for the North, despite being far too ‘Ned’ for his liking.

The feast that followed was louder than the celebration following the defeat of the dead. Jaime found himself seated beside Brienne at the same table he once shared with Pod, Tyrion, and Brienne.

Arya and Brienne spent a good deal of the evening talking. At one point, Jaime saw them sneak off to the yards to fight. For his part, Gendry was all smiles and celebrating with the Northern soldiers. When the ladies returned form the yards with flushed cheeks and wind brushed hair, Jaime laughed.

“She beat me. I think she remembered my dagger flip move.” Arya sat down across from Jaime and smirked at Brienne.

When Brienne took her seat beside Jaime, she shook her head. “I swear, I didn’t remember it. I hardly know what you’re on about.”

“Bullshit. It’s my signature move, and it got you the last time.”

The two carried on for some time. Jaime enjoyed listening to them go back and forth before Gendry came over to steal Arya away. Watching the pair from their seats, Brienne smiled before taking a sip of her wine.

“They’ll make strong leaders. She’s quite taken with him, though she won’t admit it.”

Jaime’s raised an amused brow. “It likely helps that he does whatever she says without question.”

From across the table, Pod snorted. Muttering into his drink, the young knight’s voice was just loud enough to be heard. “Sounds familiar.”

Jaime scoffed and feigned offense. “Ser Podrick Payne. Do you have something you would like to share?”

With an innocent shrug, Pod raised his hands defensively. “Don’t know what you mean my lord Hand.” A mischievous smile stretched across Pod’s face as he looked to Brienne. Glancing over his shoulder at Gendry, Pod spoke teasingly. “What was that you said once, Ser? ‘Gods. He looks so much like Renly.’ Huh. What do you think?”

_I don’t care if he fancies himself Brienne’s son. I’ll kill Pod here and now._

Brienne hummed in consideration. “I can see that.”

The look on Jaime’s face betrayed his jealousy. “Renly Baratheon and that boy over there don’t look alike.”

_Well that’s a lie. They do, but I won’t accept it._

Brienne snorted as she looked down to her plate and took another bite of the sweets the staff had just brought out. “Do you even know what Renly looked like? He looked like him.” Brienne pointed her fork in Gendry’s direction.

Jealousy flared in Jaime’s core. He knew it was frivolous, but he couldn’t help it. With Brienne missing so many of her memories, Jaime wondered if she still harbored feelings for Renly.

When Pod went to find a new jug of wine, Brienne turned to say something to Jaime, but paused when she saw the scowl on his face.

“What wrong with you?”

Shaking his head innocently, Jaime mumbled more to himself than Brienne. “He doesn’t look like Renly _that_ much.”

“Oh gods. Are you upset that Gendry looks like his uncle? Is that bothersome to you? Well I hate to inform you, but one of our babes might look like Tyrion, or a Lannister cousin of yours. Will you be upset by that too?”

With an exaggerated eyeroll, Jaime crossed his arms and leaned away from the table. “That depends. Are you in love with any of them?”

Realization dawned in Brienne’s eyes and she guffawed loudly. Clutching her chest, Brienne shook her head; mirth danced in her eyes.

“Do you think that I still fancy Renly? Is that the problem?”

Jaime feigned indifference, but his reply was weak, and Brienne saw through it. With a hum of amusement, Brienne reached out for Jaime’s hand.

“I didn’t fancy Renly because I thought him handsome, though he happened to be. I _thought_ myself in love with him, because he was kind to me. No one else had ever been kind to me before.”

The mirth in Brienne’s tone died at the words. She removed her hand from Jaime’s and looked to her plate.

“I suppose I was just desperate for kindness. I’m not an idiot. I knew he fancied men. I just wished to serve him honorably as a thanks for his not treating me as everyone else did.”

Jaime felt guilt sink in. He remembered hearing the tale from Pod. Cursing himself inwardly, Jaime reprimanded himself for being a brat about it. With a sigh, he rubbed Brienne’s back and shuffled closer.

“Sorry. I’ve always been a jealous man. I suppose I resent Renly for being kind to you from the beginning when I wasn’t.”

Risking a glance at Brienne, Jaime was expecting to see surprise on her face, but she seemed unphased. He questioned her while staring intently at her face. “Do you remember the things that I said to you when we met?”

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne sighed. “No. I just assumed your initial assessment was not favorable. No one has ever thought or said kind things when they met me. The best I can hope for is indifference. You said that I was your captor though. I can’t imagine you were pleased nor that you held back your opinions.”

The casual nature in which she made the statement upset Jaime. He was angry at everyone who treated her cruelly on first impression alone, including himself.

“I was angry that I was catpive and… away from my family. I spent almost a year as Robb Stark’s prisoner. I took it out on you, but I hate all the things that I said to you. It was awful and unworthy.”

With a slight shrug, Brienne smiled as Pod returned with more wine. “It’s fine. I don’t even remember it, but I can’t imagine it was anything I hadn’t heard before.”

The hall was loud, and Pod had to shout across the table to offer more wine. Glancing towards the dance floor, Jaime smiled at the sight of Arya and Gendry having a good time with their people. A loud laugh to their left caught Jaime’s attention.

Tormund was loudly retelling a tale to a group of Wildlings and Northmen. As he caught sight of their table, Tormund smiled widely and walked over. The drink in his horn sloshed over the edges as he strode forward. At his approach, Tormund smiled widely and stared at Brienne.

“My beauty is here! Are you still married to this fucker?”

With his hand still on Brienne’s back, Jaime felt her chuckle lightly. “Yes, I’m still married to Jaime.”

The burly redhead’s face fell at the words. With a grunt of dissatisfaction, Tormund appraised Jaime. An awkward silence fell over the table as Tormund leaned forward. His eyes darted to Brienne and sincerity laced his tone.

“You ever leave this one, just know I would have you. A good woman like you, I wouldn’t leave you no matter the reason.” Tormund cast a warning glance at Jaime.

“You make her happy now. Good. If you hurt her again, I’ll come south for you. I still don’t think you deserve her.”

Brienne stood from her seat and placed a gentle hand on Tormund’s shoulder. “Thank you, Tormund. That’s very kind of you. You’re a good man.”

The Wildling beamed at the words, but Brienne continued. “I do believe that I get to determine who deserves me, though. Ser Jaime makes me happy and he is good to me.”

Reaching for Jaime’s hand, Brienne yanked him upright. “I’m tired now. Pod, I trust you’ll find something to do with your time.”

Brienne cast a glance at the serving maid in the corner. The amount of time it had taken Pod to procure the wine was surprising, bit when Jaime had followed Brienne’s eyeline before Pod’s return, Jaime realized why.

The young knight’s face reddened as he bit back a laugh. “Yes, ser. I’ll be just fine. Have a good night.”

Jaime smirked at Tormund as Brienne tugged him from the hall.

_That’s right. I’m the one leaving with her again, Giantsbane. It will be the same for us in the next lifetime. And the next. And the next._

Stepping into the hallway, Jaime spun Brienne around to face him. His lips pressed warm to hers as a smile stretched across his face.

“I love when you tell Tormund off. Particularly when its to choose me.”

Brienne chuckled in his arm. Her brows raising slightly. “He’s a good man. I think he means well and I’m certain he’ll make some woman quite happy. I’m quite happy already though.”

_Despite my failures. Despite getting you killed. Despite not telling you sooner how much I love you._

“Can we go back to the room now? I’m quite hoping the fire is going strong and I have an excuse to start stripping down.”

Brienne snorted and tugged him down the hallway. “You’re an idiot.”


	27. Loss and Gain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four moons passed since Arya's wedding. Brienne gains another memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a memory of miscarriage. If you would rather skip it, I've added an end note to summarize.

**Brienne**

Four moons had passed since Arya’s wedding, and eight moons since Jaime and Brienne wed. Since stumbling upon the place where she was killed, Brienne only regained one additional memory. The dead.

The night before they left Winterfell, Jaime and Brienne decided to spar in the yards. She had been restless after another nightmare and wanted to get some fresh air. On account of the hour, they opted to spar in the courtyard rather than outside the castle walls.

It wasn’t until Jaime teasingly backed her up against one of the castle walls and kissed her, that Brienne remembered the dead. She recalled fighting for her life against the wall with Pod and Jaime at her side. It was as vivid as her death. If she closed her eyes, Brienne felt as though the wights were clawing at her once more.

Their putrid breath, decaying flesh, and lifeless eyes reached for Brienne behind closed lids. It was strange to think back on, but Brienne believed she would die there. When the dead fell, Brienne had felt in a trance. It seemed both an eternity and an instant before anyone approached her. Jaime.

He had collapsed against her in a relieved embrace. Had Brienne not just spent countless hours fighting for her life, she might have considered it a pleasant memory. After remembering the battle with the dead, nothing else came.

Moons passed and Jaime ran out of new and creative ways to jog her memory. Brienne wasn’t certain what Jaime thought she was failing to recall, but she felt enough of the puzzle pieces were in place to get the gist of it. Over the past moon turn however, something felt off.

It was as though a memory was dangling right in front of Brienne and she couldn’t grasp it. The sensation was irksome at best, and Brienne wanted to scream, but instead she did the sensible thing. She sparred.

Pod had been on the receiving end of her frustration lately and Brienne felt badly of it. It wasn’t merely the memory just out of reach that bothered Brienne, but everything else. Life felt stagnant. Everything seemed to operate on its own of late. She had trained the Kingsguard so well, that she no longer needed to order them about regularly.

They managed their own drills and even helped oversee the squire program so that Brienne could participate more in small council. There were several promising prospects in the squire program and two recently knighted squires were doing well leading shifts for the Gold Cloaks.

King’s Landing was thriving once more with traders coming to port regularly from across the Narrow Sea. With Tyrion’s and Jaime’s efforts to secure trade alliances to the north and abroad, the bank was regenerating, and the kingdoms future looked secure.

Most tiresome in its consistency was Brienne’s moonblood. To be more specific, they were consistently inconsistent. Her disappointment of a body had yet to swell with child despite eight moons of trying for a babe.

This moonblood seemed no different. As usual, Brienne’s moonblood was late; three weeks late to be exact. It was a tease to Jaime every moon turn, and Brienne tried to remind him how irregular her body was. The only solace he took was the allowance for less interruptions to their coupling.

Brienne felt the telltale signs of her looming moonblood. She had cramps and fatigue. Some tenderness to her breasts was more irksome than usual given the need to don her Kingsguard armor. The breastplate pushed against her sore chest and reminded Brienne of the japes she heard at Renly’s camp so many years ago.

_A woman playing at a knight; traipsing about in man’s mail and breeches. A waste of rags for an unlovable cow._

To add insult to injury, Brienne felt an overwhelming nausea. It wasn’t a typical symptom of her approaching moonblood, but one she was hardly surprised by.

_Why not? What other ridiculous impediments can we add to the mix? I so enjoy nearly losing my meals in front of the entire small council._

After her shift guarding Jon, Brienne made her way to the White Sword Tower to remove her armor and finish some paperwork for the day. The sight of the never-used bed in the corner called to Brienne.

_My shift is over. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to lay down for a moment._

Padding over to the bed, Brienne laid down with a sigh. Her feet hurt and her nausea was setting in once more. Curling into a ball, Brienne fell asleep within a matter of moments.

_A strong pain gripped Brienne’s pelvis as she trudged through thawed northern grounds; mud clinging to her boots with every step. It was freezing and her stomach cried out in hunger. It had been days since Brienne left Winterfell on foot. Days since she had a proper meal._

_An intense wave of pain ripped through Brienne. Falling to a knee, she clutched at her lower abdomen. A slight panic set in at the abnormally strong ache. Mumbling to herself, Brienne urged her body upright._

_“Don’t be so pathetic. Get up.”_

_Despite reprimanding her body, Brienne found that each step forward hurt more than the last. An overwhelming ache tore at her pelvis once more. With a strangled cry, Brienne fell to both knees. Tears stung the back of her eyes as she realized something was very wrong._

_Thoughts of the babe swirled in her mind as she looked around for nonexistent aid. Brienne conceded that she needed to stop to rest._

_Panic rippled through Brienne as she struggled to get a fire going. The pain was too severe, and Brienne reconciled that she would need to make do while huddled on the cold, damp ground._

_Then she felt the warm, wet sensation in her breeches. Blood began to pool in her smallclothes, and Brienne frantically looked through her meager belongings for moonblood cloths. The rags were no match for the loss her body was experiencing._

_As each wave of pain crashed over her, Brienne curled in on herself more. She cried out and despaired at her inability to do anything more for her babe. There was blood everywhere and Brienne began to feel woozy. She drifted in and out of consciousness after hours in agony on the forest floor, bleeding_ _heavily._

_I’ve failed again. I’ve failed this babe as I’ve failed Jaime. Mayhap it is best that Jaime never knew. It would be one less inadequacy for him to hold against me._

Brienne awoke with a start. Gasping for air, she looked around frantically and realized that she was still in the White Sword Tower. Tears lined her cheeks as Brienne wiped at her eyes. It was the most vivid dream that Brienne had ever experienced. That was when she knew.

_I’ve felt this way before. This isn’t my moonblood. This cramping is different. The breast tenderness is heightened. The nausea, the food aversions, the extreme fatigue. I’m pregnant._

Fear took hold as Brienne wondered at the dream’s meaning. She wondered if the memory was real, or merely a premonition. Moving quickly from the room, Brienne only wished to see one person. She needed to find Jaime.

**Jaime**

A knowing smile stretched across Jaime’s face as he watched his brother read the parchment bearing the House Wensington sigil. As always, Brienne had an eye for everything. Some moons ago when she heard that Tyrion was feeling despondent and lonely, she began her latest side project; seeing her goodbrother smile.

There were few ladies of the Stormlands of age to Tyrion, but like her father, Brienne knew all the vassals, unwed nobility, and unique personalities. Many vassals had come to Tarth over the years, and two Houses stood out to Brienne as potential for her project.

House Wensington was to House Baratheon what House Karstark was to House Stark; a cadet branch with close ties. Brienne knew that Lord Wensington struggled to find a match for his daughter, Lady Alya.

Like Brienne, Lady Alya was considered a problematic heir. Her parents had one other child, a son, who died in the Battle of the Blackwater. They were never able to have another child, and Lady Alya was refused as a match by other Houses in the Stormlands.

She was a slight girl; similar in build to Arya. While Arya rebelled with weapons, Alya rebelled with words. A sharp girl, Alya refused to marry a man who could not keep up with her in conversation. Brienne remembered the family visiting Tarth many years ago.

They had tried to arrange a match between Brienne and their son, Brance. Like most unwed noblemen, Brance took one look at Brienne and decided that the grazing cows they passed on the journey from the dock to Evenfall would make a better match. His parents agreed.

Brienne told Jaime the tale as though it held little difference to any other memory from Tarth. It bothered Jaime to hear yet another tale of cruelty towards Brienne, but she had carried on with indifference heavy in her tone.

_“They brought their daughter with them. Alya seemed as accepted by her family, as I was accepted by them as a prospect. She found me training the yards and prattled on for an eternity. I think she was the only visiting child of a vassal to speak to me in all the years that I lived on Tarth.”_

Recalling Alya’s personality, Brienne thought the young woman a fine match for Tyrion despite being well below his station. Tyrion was Lord of the Rock and Warden of the Westerlands. The match would not be on equal footing, but their personalities might be.

Brienne arranged a visit with Alya under the guise of diplomatic relations with the Stormlands. While Westeros knew her as the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard, they also recognized that she was heir to Tarth and by consequence, future liege lady of the Stormlands. It was not an unusual request.

When Alya arrived, Brienne had conveniently invited her to lunch in the gardens when she was already planning to eat with Tyrion and Jaime. The lunch went as Brienne expected. She sat back and smirked knowingly when the pair hit it off. Yet again, Jaime had been in awe of his wife.

Now Tyrion and Alya wrote each other constantly. Jaime smirked as he watched a wide smile spread across Tyrion’s face.

“I’m so pleased that a piece of paper makes for better company than your favorite sibling.”

Tyrion snorted and glanced over the missive at Jaime. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I prefer my goodsister to this missive.”

Jaime guffawed and took a sip of his water, as he continued to appraise his brother’s gleeful face. When he finished reading the letter, Tyrion folded it up and placed it in his jerkin.

A teasing smile spread across Jaime’s face as she studied Tyrion.

“So… when is Lady Alya to visit next? Diplomatic reasons I’m certain. Mayhap the next time she leaves, you can be a little more forthcoming than suggesting to exchange thoughts and history lessons by way of raven.”

Leaning back, Tyrion crossed his arms and shrugged. A mocking smile spread across his face “Well, I’m rather conflicted about it all. Do I court her as a mature nobleman would, or do I take my bumbling brother’s example and pine away for years, only to avoid confessing my feelings at every turn? The possibilities to this game are endless.”

_Wow. So it’s going to be like that._

With feigned seriousness, Jaime narrowed his eyes at Tyrion and offered his advice. “I recommend pining away for years. It makes the payoff that much more exciting.”

Tyrion hummed in consideration. “Do you know any competing suitors who I could make an ass of myself in front of? Your version of a Tormund perhaps.”

“Let me speak with Pod about it. Nothing could entice Lady Alya more than Ser Podrick Payne and his magic cock.”

Jaime pretended at leaving, but Tyrion grabbed his arm. “Do that brother, and I’ll have Tormund summoned to King’s Landing for _diplomatic_ reasons as well.” 

The brothers began to bicker teasingly as their soup grew cold. They had opted to take a late lunch in the Tower of the Hand. Jaime had expected Brienne to return from her shift some time ago, but he was disheartened when she didn’t join them.

As the brothers carried on, Jaime heard fast approaching footsteps in the hallway. Cutting Tyrion off midsentence, Jaime moved to the door to see who was coming in such a hurry. When he stepped into the hallway and saw Brienne scrambling towards him with a tearstained face, Jaime panicked.

“Brienne? What’s wrong?” Meeting her halfway, Jaime pulled Brienne close as she reached for him in a panic. She started speaking urgently, but in her haste, Jaime could barley make out what she was saying. Her breathing came in rapid, short bursts against Jaime’s chest.

“Brienne. Slow down. Breathe. Are you alright?”

Pulling back his head to appraise Brienne’s eyes, he saw fear there. Tyrion stepped into the hallway and inquired after them, but Jaime could focus on little more than Brienne.

Brienne took a steadying breath and spoke inquiringly. “The babe. Did I lose the babe in the woods not long after leaving Winterfell?”

As the memory flashed in Jaime’s mind, his eyes went wide.

_Oh gods. She remembered. She remembered and I wasn’t there again._

Glancing back at Tyrion, Jaime saw understanding flash across his brother’s face. With a heavy sigh, Tyrion walked towards them and grabbed Brienne’s forearm sympathetically.

“I’ll come back later. I’m sorry, Brienne.”

Without another word, Tyrion descended the spiral stairs of the tower. The despair in Brienne’s eyes was unnerving as Jaime guided her towards their room. Encouraging Brienne to sit, Jaime kneeled before her and swallowed thickly.

The image of Brienne alone and miscarrying on the forest floor was impossible to shake from this mind. Jaime grabbed Brienne’s hand and met her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Brienne. I should have been there with you and I wasn’t, but Bran showed me just as he showed me other things that happened after I left. Yes, that is what happened.”

Brienne’s face fell. “I saw it all so clearly. I failed the babe and you. It hurt. I couldn’t even get a bloody fire going.”

Shaking his head frantically, Jaime reached for her cheek. “No! Brienne, that was Sansa’s doing. She gave you moon tea. You did nothing wrong. You nearly bled to death!”

A painful silence fell over them as Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne. He buried his head in her lap and spoke quietly.

“How did you remember? What triggered it?”

Jaime felt Brienne take a deep, shaky breath before she spoke. “I fell asleep after finishing some paperwork. It was a dream. I think… I think what truly triggered it was the _feeling_ that I couldn’t place.”

_Feeling? How long as she been suffering with a feeling of loss?_

Lifting his head to meet Brienne’s eyes, Jaime’s brows furrowed. “You never said this was hurting you. The loss. You felt it?”

Brienne shook her head. “No. Not that. Quit the opposite really. I’ve been feeling something that I couldn’t place. It was as though the memory was just before me, but it was unclear. My body seemed to remember what my mind couldn’t. The feeling of being pregnant.”

Jaime sat back on his heels in shock. “Brienne… are you saying that you _feel_ pregnant?”

Trying to refrain from crying with joy, Jaime bit his lip and searched Brienne’s eyes for an answer. She nodded slowly.

“I know this feeling. I remember it now… after the dream. I haven’t had my moonblood and I thought my body was being useless again, but… I _know_ this feeling.”

Jaime wanted to scream from the top of the tower, but he was afraid of placing any pressure on Brienne. If she was wrong or something was wrong with the pregnancy, Jaime didn’t want her to despair.

Standing upright, Jaime leaned down and kissed Brienne’s lips; a smile lifting at the corners of his mouth. “Lets go see the maester, Brienne. Don’t be upset. Everything will be fine no matter what he says. I’m sorry you remembered this way.”

Brienne nodded slowly and stood from the bed. Despite trying to appear calm and supportive, Jaime was bursting internally. He wanted to celebrate and scream for all of King’s Landing to hear. First, they needed confirmation.

The walk to the maester’s office was unbearable as Jaime’s mind ran wild. He tried to focus on Brienne. It upset him that it took the memory of loss to remind her of what they possibly gained. When the maester brought her into the room for an exam, Jaime paced wildly in the hallway.

_Gods. Please let Brienne have the right of it. Let us have this._

The door to the maester’s office creaked open and Jaime felt his heart stop beating. When the older man inclined his head towards the room, Jaime needed no other invitation before running in. Brienne sat on the exam table with her legs dangling over the edge. Fresh tears were on her cheeks and Jaime felt his stomach drop.

_Seven hells. Why can nothing go our way?_

Moving to Brienne, Jaime wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s alright. We can keep trying. Do you want a bath or a spar or…”

Pulling back from his embrace, Brienne met his eyes. “We’re to have a babe, Jaime.”

“…Mayhap you want some sweets. You like those lemon cakes and… wait, what? What did you say?”

Looking into Brienne’s eyes, Jaime wondered if he misheard her. Brienne offered a hesitant smile and repeated her words. “A babe, Jaime. We’re to have a babe.”

Jaime felt his own eyes mist as he looked to her pelvis. Placing his hand there, he whispered more to himself than Brienne. “A babe. We’re going to have a babe.”

When Jaime felt Brienne’s hands on his face, his mind flashed back to Winterfell in the courtyard. Her voice echoed in his mind, begging him to stay.

_I wanted to stay. This could have been our second babe._

Silent tears spilled from the corners of Jaime’s eyes. He couldn’t stop apologizing to Brienne when their eyes met.

“I never wanted to leave. I swear it. I should have stayed, and this babe wouldn’t have been the first.”

Brienne rested her forehead against Jaime’s; her warm hands catching the tears that spilled from his eyes. It was a strange sensation to be both thrilled for the babe to come, but simultaneously saddened at the thought of the babe that should have been.

They stood holding each other for some time in the maester’s office. Jaime considered all they had been through to get to that point. For every gain, there had been a loss. This babe proved no different. He would cherish this one that much more because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those skipping the chapter due to the memory of miscarriage - Brienne remembers her loss and comes to find that she is pregnant.


	28. Tarth and King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne take some time to visit Tarth.

**Brienne**

The sea air kissed Brienne’s skin as she stood at the bow of the ship. In the distance, the outline of Tarth came into view and sent a warmth through her body. After finding out she was pregnant, Brienne felt conflicting emotions. She was excited and frightened. Hopeful and despairing.

To allow them time to digest the news while simultaneously grieving for the babe they lost, Jon encouraged the couple to take some time on Tarth. For a moon turn, Brienne refused to leave her duty. There seemed too much to complete in preparation for a temporary hiatus when the babe was born.

Both Jaime and Brienne proved a chaotic energy of heightened emotions that few in the small council could tolerate after a point. When Jon could endure them no longer, he forced them to take a break. He commanded them to take a fortnight on Tarth to relax and relieve the stress the news brought.

Brienne’s departure was begrudging, but now as Tarth came into view, she realized how much she needed the break. Warm arms circled her waist from behind.

“The sapphire isle. I hear it’s named as much for its abundance of the very jewel.”

Brienne sorted at Jaime’s teasing words. His tone remained light as he spoke into her ear.

“I’m quite excited to see this island in the sea that Pod has been raving about. He’s like a puppy whose master just returned home after being away for years.”

Brienne smirked at Jaime’s words. Of course, Pod had offered to join the couple and serve as guard to the Hand and Lady Commander. He made an impressive argument as to why it was too dangerous to allow two of the most important people in Westeros to wander about unguarded.

_“Yes, Pod. Tarth is quite unsafe for Tarths. Whatever would Ser Jaime and I do without my former squire to guard us.”_

Brienne’s teasing words had held no mockery; only warm jest. When they were last on Tarth, Brienne worried that Pod was miserable there. She came to realize that he was merely worried for her happiness despite enjoying the island thoroughly. It seemed that Pod could hardly last a conversation with Bronn and Tyrion without boasting at how wonderful Tarth was.

Of course, when Jon agreed to let Pod take leave for a fortnight, Bronn had tried to invite himself along too. The king had only snorted and shook his head in refute.

_“I do believe, Ser Bronn, that Evenfall is already accounted for. I’m not certain you’ll find what you’re looking for there.”_

Bronn feigned offense and clutched at his chest. _“Ya grace, just because that idiot Hand of yours owes me a castle, don’t mean that I intend to take theirs.”_

Fortunately for Brienne and Jaime, only Pod was on the ship. The feel of Jaime’s lips against Brienne’s neck sent a heat to her core. Over the past few weeks, Brienne had been insatiable, and Jaime had never been happier. He was all too pleased to offer his body entirely to Brienne.

_“As I said in Winterfell, I would be honored to serve under your command.”_

Jaime’s hand traveled north to Brienne’s sensitive breast, but Pod’s voice ruined the moment.

“Sers! Look! There’s Tarth.”

At Pod’s statement, Brienne’s mind conjured the image of them on horseback and overlooking Riverrun.

_‘You have a keen military mind, Pod.’_

Brienne chuckled and glanced to her left as Pod approached the railing of the ship. Mumbling more to herself than either of the men, Brienne kept her eyes fixed on Tarth. “A keen military mind indeed.”

“Ser! You remembered.”

_Gods. How could I forget Pod and his observational skills?_

When some time later, the ship approached the dock, Brienne smiled at the sight of her father. He stood with his household guards at his back, his chest puffed with pride, and a wide smile on his face. They had not yet disclosed Brienne’s pregnancy, but instead positioned the visit as little more than visiting kin and a break from King’s Landing.

By the time that babe was due, Brienne and Jaime would have served Jon for 1.5 years. They agreed to serve until a second babe came along, and Jon was glad of it. Relief lined the king’s face when they shared the information. Jon assumed they would leave once Brienne fell pregnant with their first, and he was thrilled they would stay longer.

As the ship tied off and they disembarked, Selwyn moved quickly to them. His long arms pulled both Jaime and Brienne into a firm hug. “My children are home! Ha! Look at these two fine Tarths. I see you’ve left any of that awful crimson behind. Good!”

Jaime chuckled at Brienne’s side; their faces pressed closed together against Selwyn’s massive frame. Mumbling into Selwyn’s chest, Jaime spoke lightheartedly.

“Like your daughter, I look better in blue. We wear crimson only as punishment.”

Selwyn stepped back and appraised them. With a nod of approval, Selwyn spun around between them and placed a large arm over each of their shoulders. Guiding them towards the escort, Selwyn began rambling about the state of things and how annoying the maester was being.

From Selwyn’s letters, Brienne knew that the maester was encouraging Selwyn to take greater rest from the yards. Despite his age and failing knees, Selwyn insisted on training the men. After Ser Goodwin had died many years ago, Selwyn refused to replace his friend and former Master at Arms.

Brienne chastised her father by raven. She insisted he find a more appropriate solution lest he wish to speak with Bran about the necessary features of a wheelchair. At Pod’s eager voice, Selwyn halted his steps.

“Oh gods. You’ve brought the boy again.”

Selwyn’s chest shook with mirth as Pod ran down the dock to catch up with them. Ever the squire, he had gone below deck to instruct the men what to bring ashore for his knights.

“Be nice, father. He’s been more excited for this trip than I was to receive my first sword.”

Selwyn hummed in consideration. “That’s quite a lot of excitement. Very well. Lets just hope we have no more incidents with the brandy.”

Brienne snorted at her father’s reminder of Pod’s first exposure to brandy. The poor young man took days to recover from the experience, and he still refused to discuss the ordeal. When they reached the end of the docks, horses awaited them as the guards bowed to Brienne.

She always hated the formality of it all. At least this time there were no whispers at her back, conjecturing at her exploits and ordeals. It seemed that all of Tarth heard the true telling of her adventures on the mainland. They did not look to her with pity or uncertainty, but pride.

From what Brienne could tell, rumors of her efforts on the mainland were not the only tales to circulate. The whispers Brienne heard as they passed reflected the truth of Jaime’s killing of Aerys.

Proud eyes appraised Jaime as they noted the newest Tarth under Selwyn’s arm. Brienne bit back a laugh at the sight.

_I suppose it’s easy to hate opposing talent, but easier yet to welcome that talent to your own cause._

Brienne considered her husband; the man she was taught to hate for his dishonor despite renowned skill. Now Tarth welcome their son home with as much pride as a parent would. He was _their_ Kingslayer now. _Their_ renowned swordsman.

For his part, Jaime looked around in awe of the island. A smile was fixed to his face as he considered his future home. Brienne imagined that island life would suit Jaime just fine. Like her, Jaime enjoyed the water and warm weather.

In the moons since they wed, Jaime’s hair grew lighter in the sun’s rays. Brienne imagined it would be glowing gold after a fortnight on Tarth. Everything about the island’s weather was intensified from that of the mainland. The sun seemed brighter and the storms more severe.

_We were lucky with the weather the entire way here. Not a single storm. Wait until he experiences what Tarth considers a light rainfall._

The ride from the port to Evenfall was mercifully short. Brienne’s appetite had returned, and the hour was past midday. Brienne was beginning to feel woozy after only having a light meal on the ship that morning.

As if reading her mind, Selwyn appraised her and smiled. “I’ve had the chef prepare a late lunch. I image you children didn’t eat much on the ship.”

_Oh thank the gods._

Shaking her head in refute, Brienne offered a small smile. “I’m quite hungry and we’ve not had a proper meal for much of the trip.”

To her right, Jaime was strangely quiet as he took in the landscape. Brienne’s brows furrowed as she appraised him.

“I think this is the longest you’ve ever gone without speaking. Are you unwell?”

Shaken from his revere, Jaime looked to Brienne with a wide smile. “We’ll get to live her soon, Brienne. Do you see this place?”

_Have I seen it? He is spending far too much time with Pod._

“I think I have; about eighteen years of seeing it daily to be exact.”

Ignoring her sarcastic tone, Jaime spoke eagerly at her side. “Will you show me Ser Duncan’s shield!? Can I hold it? Is it as massive as a shield your father might use?”

Brienne rolled her eyes at the ridiculous line of questioning, bit before she could respond, he kept prattling on. “What about the waterfall? You promised waterfalls, Brienne. I’m not getting back on a ship until I’ve gone swimming under them. Oh! The cliffs. You said you would take me there too. And Morne. I fail to see why Pod should have gotten to see it and not me.”

_This relaxing trip is becoming exhausting quickly._

When soon they arrived at Evenfall, Brienne heard Jaime gasp at her side. The castle itself was modest in size. Smaller than those of the Great Houses, but not so small as lesser vassals. Brienne hardly thought anything of it growing up.

Evenfall’s one unique feature was its excessive use of marble mined from Tarth’s mines. It was that same marble sold to the Vale for their own Keep that gave Evenfall it’s bright sheen in the sun’s rays. Glancing at Jaime, Brienne saw his brows raise as he studied the castle.

“It’s so bright.”

With a soft chuckle, Brienne began to walk inside. “It’s marble and sunny out. It won’t look half so impressive when the rain moves in. I imagine several of these can fit in the Rock.”

Jaime nodded in concession and followed Brienne inside. “Quality Brienne. Not quantity. Unless of course, the items in consideration are of equal quality, but merely in abundance. Like your legs.”

An unimpressed groan escaped Brienne’s lips. When Jaime spoke like that, she never knew how to take it. His toke seemed simultaneously sincere and jesting; a most curious combination that left Brienne feeling uncertain how to respond.

Selwyn gave a brief tour of the castle before guiding them to the hall for lunch. The hall was quiet save for the bustling about of attendants as they entered. It was one of Brienne’s favorite times of day to sit in the hall. The light poured in through the large floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the sea from atop the mountainside.

“So, a fortnight away from that dreadful city. When will you stay more permanently?” Selwyn reached for a piece of bread as he spoke.

“We promised King Jon that we would stay in the city until our second babe comes along.” Brienne spoke as though the matter trivial. In truth, she longed to know when that day would come. She enjoyed her role as Lady Commander, but knowing it wasn’t a permanent situation made her desperate for answers.

She was a planner at heart and longed for more concrete timelines. It unnerved Brienne to know that it could take them moons or years to have their second.

Selwyn grumbled from down the table. “So I may die of old age before my children come home. Can you at least visit more often? This is the first that I’ve seen you since you took that awful position.”

“It’s not awful, father! I quite enjoy it.”

At her side, Jaime spoke plainly. “To be clear, I do not enjoy it.”

Brienne bit into some fruit that the staff set out with the bread. The smell of the meals being prepared remained in her nose after they had passed through the kitchens during Selwyn’s tour.

Waving his hand dismissively, Selwyn sighed. “Good well one of you has sense. _I_ don’t enjoy it. I would much prefer my children home, but so long as you’re happy, I’ll just keep my complaints to the ravens you rarely reply to.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. While she had done a much better job of communication with her father of late, she could hardly be expected to keep up with the volume of missives he sent. The stream of communications proved almost as taxing on the rookery as the letters sent between Tyrion and Alya.

Jaime snorted at Brienne’s side, his hand fumbling for hers under the table. He smirked before responding to Selwyn. “I respond to your missives.”

A loud guffaw pushed past Selwyn’s lips. “For all the good it does me. Have you tried to read your own handwriting? I think you in your last response, you inquired after my cock.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed as he struggled to recall the contents of his letter. Realization dawned as he chuckled.

“Oh! I asked ‘how is your dock’!”

_Oh gods._

Brienne rubbed at her forehead and bit back a laugh. Jaime’s handwriting truly was problematic. Given how busy they had been lately, he was forced to write missives more quickly than usual. It made his handwriting even less legible, and he still had yet to master how not to smudge the ink as his hand moved left to right.

Selwyn snorted and shook his head. “By the gods, boy, get a squire to help with your letters. Well as you can tell from your arrival, the docks were repaired just fine. We’re not strangers to damaging seas and storms.”

“Now back to this matter of babes, can’t you agree to leave when you have your first? Why your second? We haven’t even moved past my first grandbabe yet.”

The staff entered the room before Jaime or Brienne could speak. Attendants set down the plates before them and Brienne forget about Selwyn’s question entirely. Her nose took in the scent of freshly cooked fish as she eagerly picked up a fork.

Jaime released Brienne’s hand and took a forkful of fish to his mouth.

“Well the king was hoping for more than 1.5 years of service from us. It seemed fair to afford him a bit longer than that.”

Both Jaime and Brienne ate their food nonchalantly as Jaime’s words washed over Selwyn. The older lord’s fork clattered to the table; his eyes wide in shock. At Sewlyn’s side, Pod reached across for more bread.

“Pardon the reach, my lord. Do they bake this fresh every day still? I missed these rolls.”

Selwyn mumbled in response, but his eyes remained fixed on Jaime and Brienne. They pair chewed on their fish absently as the staff brought the table more water and wine. 

“Year and a half… you’ve been there for 9 moons… that’s six moons from now… why would he think…”

At Selwyn’s rambling, Brienne looked up after putting another forkful of fish into her mouth. “What?”

Turning to Jaime, Brienne saw his eyes widen slightly as he realized the implication of his comment. With an uncertain glance at Brienne, Jaime stammered slightly.

“Ah, right. I suppose we hadn’t mentioned that bit yet. Soon we’ll have four Tarths. Can I get some of that wine?”

**Jaime**

The wide range in emotions from Selwyn was not one they had expected. Confusion, shock, excitement, and now, panic.

“I’ve no nursery setup for this! The babe needs a room for your visits! Well, a room to eventually call his or her own.”

Jaime and Brienne followed Selwyn through a series of hallways on the second level of the Keep. His massive arms were flapping in despair as he considered all that needed doing.

Sarcasm laced Brienne’s tone as she huffed and tried to keep up with her father’s long strides. “It’s quite alright father. I think you can be excused for not having a nursery setup within the first hour of finding out.”

“Hush child! I’m thinking. Where did we put all that shit?”

Selwyn made an abrupt turn down another hallway and pushed open the first door on the right. The room was filled with all manner of furniture, chests, and linens. At Jaime’s side, Brienne grumbled.

“Must we do this now? Oh gods. I hate this room.”

Leaning into Brienne’s ear, Jaime spoke in hushed tones. “What is all of this?”

As Selwyn began tearing through the room, Brienne sighed and met Jaime’s eyes. “When my mother and siblings died, he put all their belongings in here. He didn’t want to see it in the rooms, but he couldn’t part with it.”

Jaime’s mouth turned down as he looked back to Selwyn. Whatever he was looking for seemed quite specific in nature. The room itself appeared untouched for years. Unlike other areas of the Keep which were sparsely decorated with little furniture, this room was a bit of a catastrophe.

“Here! Perfect.” Selwyn smiled widely and shoved some items out of the way. He lifted a wooden crib and wove his way around the other piles of items to join them near the doorway.

With a victorious smile, Selwyn placed the crib before them. “Here it is. I made this for my children. Still as good as any. It even rocks.”

The crib was well-crafted and in excellent condition. Jaime was impressed that Selwyn had made it himself, but he couldn’t help but tease his goodfather.

“It rocks intentionally or because the legs are uneven?”

Jaime could hear Brienne swallow a laugh at his side, but Selwyn only cast an unimpressed glare at Jaime.

“Mayhap it’s the tilt of that rock upon your neck that makes it appear uneven. I hope for Brienne’s sake, that babe doesn’t come out with a head the size of yours; literally or figuratively.”

Jaime chuckled as Selwyn picked up the crib and carried it into the hallway. Running a hand over his head, Jaime raised an inquisitive brow at Brienne. “My head isn’t that big, is it?”

“Well… a bit.”

With a loud laugh, Jaime followed Brienne and Selwyn down the hallway. The older lord mumbled to himself about everything else that needed doing. When they came outside a room in the family wing, Jaime saw Brienne stiffen slightly.

“Truly? This room?”

Brienne’s tone was uneasy as she appraised the door. Without looking back, Selwyn turned the handle and moved inside. He called back over his shoulder.

“I’ll not let ghosts drive out the living. Galladon would be honored.”

Understanding washed over Jaime as he grabbed Brienne’s hand and tugged her inside after Selwyn. Appraising the room, Jaime’s eyes went wide. It was a large for a child and had an amazing view of the sea. One of the walls had a large four post bed against it while the opposite side looked out over the sea.

Like the hall, floor to ceiling windows let in substantial light and made the room feel warm and welcoming. Small adornments boasted the Tarth sigil and colors, but it was otherwise sparsely decorated.

Selwyn placed the crib in the middle of the room between the bed and windows. A satisfied smile spread across his face when he glanced back at them. “I’ll get this room fixed up. It’s a mess.”

Jaime snorted and wondered what exactly needed cleaning.

“It’s lovely. I imagine the babe will have the best view in the castle.” Jaime smiled as he glanced to Brienne. Judging by her expression, Jaime imagined that memories of her brother were overwhelming her as she took in the room.

“The second-best views. You two will have the room with the best view. I only ask that you expedite that second babe so that I can have you all here.”

At the words, Brienne’s head snapped to her father.

“That room? No. You said it was best unused.”

With a sad smile, Selwyn shook his head. “Your mother would have wanted it to be enjoyed. I can’t bring myself to sleep in there, but you two should. Besides, it’s next door to this one and I imagine you’ll be quite busy running to and from.”

Selwyn chuckled knowingly and moved towards them. His large hands came to each of their shoulders. “This is wonderful! We’re to have more Tarths. Little knights to fill that awful Kingsguard you so enjoy.”

A teasing smile stretched across Selwyn’s face as he appraised Brienne. “I hope you have a delightfully challenging daughter… just like you.”

He guided them from the room and next door. As much as Selwyn was teasing Brienne, the thought of a daughter excited Jaime. He would be happy with a boy or a girl, but there was something special about a daughter; particularly one like her mother.

Selwyn guided them into the next room. When they stepped inside, Jaime felt his breath catch. The room was massive and had the most incredible views he had ever seen. He wondered how anyone would get out of bed in the morning.

An even larger four post bed rested against the wall in similar fashion to Galladon’s room. Larger furniture was set out, but nothing obscured the view to the sea. It was obvious that the room was meant to be the Evenstar’s chambers. Based on Selwyn’s comment, Jaime imagined that he refused to stay in it after his wife died.

The older lord walked slowly towards the windows. A wistful smile lined his face as he looked to the sea. “You pair will make this place a home again. For some years, it has only been a Keep.”

The next several days on Tarth were incredible. Jaime enjoyed exploring and getting to know the island. The people were warmer than he expected, and the food was incredible. Being an island, the seafood was unlike anything that Jaime experienced before.

Even with Casterly Rock being on the water, they dined mostly on boar or beef. It was nice to have a meal without constantly relying on Brienne to cut his food as though he was a babe.

While Brienne’s appetite had returned, she still suffered from fatigue. At night she often retired early; too weary from a day of showing Jaime around the island. Jaime didn’t mind. It gave him time with Pod and Selwyn. The three men had developed a bond centered around their common love for Brienne.

At first, Selwyn asked after Brienne. It was the true reason he started writing separate missives to Jaime. Selwyn feared that Brienne downplayed her happiness and memory. He knew that Jaime would tell him the truth, which he always did.

Jaime provided updates on all memories that returned to Brienne; all but the memory of losing the babe. That was an insight best served for an in-person conversation. On his second night on Tarth, Jaime told Selwyn the circumstances of how Brienne realized she was with child.

The older lord was upset and tried to insist that they return to Tarth permanently. By the end of the conversation however, Selwyn felt better about things.

After the first few days, Selwyn asked about Jaime; his upbringing, his living kin, and his interests. They found a common interest in sea. Jaime enjoyed swimming and sailing as did Selwyn. The older lord decided it would be their first trip with the grandbabe. They would sail to the Rock for a visit.

It was nice forging a relationship with Selwyn. Jaime hadn’t realized how desperately he needed a parental figure in his life. Tywin couldn’t be bothered, and Jaime had few memories of his mother.

By the end of their visit on Tarth, Selwyn and Jaime were often taking off together for trips around the island. Brienne had feigned offense and needled him one night.

_“Is this the true reason you married me? Tarth and my father?”_

When the trip ended, Jaime had little desire to board the ship. He hardly understood why Brienne left to begin with, but he was eternally grateful that she did.

When less than two days later the ship approached the harbor at King’s landing, Jaime groaned inwardly. Jon chuckled at the sight of them when they entered the Keep. Jaime’s skin was incredibly tan from the time in the sun, and his hair even lighter than when they left. Jaime could hardly wipe the smile from his face when he spoke of his future home.

That night as they lay in the Tower of the Hand, Jaime pulled Brienne close and whispered sleepily into her ear.

“Lets make that second right after this one is born. We Tarths belong on an island. Not the mainland. I wish to go home and stay there.”


	29. Temporary and Permanent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime leave the Red Keep to return home for good.

**Brienne**

Loud voices floated down the hallway and roused Brienne from sleep. She had found little slumber the night prior on account of the pain in her back. Blinking to clear the sleep from her eyes, Brienne sighed and glanced down at her belly which was heavy with child.

Stretching slowly, Brienne smiled as Duncan came running into the room with Jaime at his heels. The young boy squealed in delight, and ran to Brienne for protection from the bear at his back.

“Momma! Up! Up!”

Duncan reached his arms up as he giggled. From the doorway, Jaime growled and ran at him; grabbing at his feet as Brienne scooped him onto the bed. The effort of lifting the 1.5-year-old taxed her back, but she could never deny their son.

Jaime flopped dramatically onto the bed with Duncan between them. He sighed and smiled as his eyes closed. “I’m tired. Lets take a nap Dunk.”

The young boy reached his chubby hands to Jaime’s face. His golden curls dangled in front of his green eyes as he giggled mischievously. “Dada sleep?”

“Yes, I’m asleep. You sleep too.”

Brienne rolled her eyes at the exchange; a fond smile on her face.

_Yes, right. The child who never naps is going to calmly sit there as you sleep._

Sitting upright, Brienne glanced around the room. Hardly any belongings remained after having been loaded onto the ship awaiting them at the dock. It was the last day that Jaime would serve as Hand, and Brienne would serve as Lady Commander of the Kingsguard.

Much had changed in the past 2 years. Not long after Duncan was born, Tyrion and Alya wed. They lived in King’s Landing for another year before Alya grew heavy with child. Knowing they were needed at the Rock, and given Alya’s desire to settle down in their permanent home before the babe arrived, Tyrion left his position as Master of Coin.

By that point, Westeros was thriving. The crown was in good standing with the Iron Bank, and sufficient funds were in the treasury to draw from should the need arise. Continuing the Lannister tradition of managing coin, a Lannister cousin had taken on the role as Master of Coin in Tyrion’s absence.

It had been a difficult parting for the brothers, but they wrote often and agreed to visit regularly. Tyrion had just visited the city a moon turn prior to participate in a summit between the kingdoms. It had served as a welcome opportunity to see Arya and Gendry.

Brienne missed Arya and worried that she would see her friend less once on Tarth. Until her father passed, there was little need for Brienne to attend summits on behalf of the Stormlands. Losing Selwyn was a frightening thought, so Brienne begrudgingly reconciled that she would need to endure journeys north more than she would care for.

Breaking Brienne from her thoughts, Duncan fell against her belly. The young boy had a never-ending supply of energy from which Brienne wished she could draw upon. Unlike the pregnancy with Duncan, this babe wore on Brienne more.

It was likely the combination of caring for a young child on top of her responsibilities, but Brienne also knew that much of the fatigue came from the programs she launched just years earlier. The volume of squires entering the program was overwhelming.

Brienne hated turning away prospects, and she opted to double the training sessions to ensure all had a chance to participate. Jaime worried that she was wearing herself out, but Brienne loved seeing the youth develop new skills. Eventually, they had to place a cap on the number of squires participating in the program. 

There had an incredible group of young knights produced from the program, and the Gold Cloaks had never been more efficient and respected. The Kingsguard had seen no turnover in the time that Brienne led the men, but when she left that day, there would be two vacancies.

Joining them on Tarth as Master at Arms would be Ser Podrick Payne. The young knight loved Tarth beyond comprehension and had met his wife there on a trip the year prior. While Pod’s wife, Celia, had joined them in King’s Landing, she too was eager to return home.

“Momma!” Duncan giggled and clambered onto Brienne’s lap. The young boy found her growing belly amusing. He giggled and grabbed at it as though it was a ball to play with. Resting his head on her stomach, Duncan stilled for a moment. It was a rare thing, but usually reserved for Brienne, whereas Jaime was the playmate.

The embrace always warmed Brienne. She still struggled to feel lovable, but when Duncan entered her world, it mattered little. The warm embraces from Duncan, and unyielding devotion from Jaime were enough to accept the love offered.

After a moment of serenity, Duncan stood and began bouncing on the bed as he giggled. The young boy jumped onto Jaime and elicited a loud groan from his father.

“Gods you’re heavy, Dunk. A proper Tarth.”

Brienne scoffed as she stood from the bed and extended her arms towards Duncan.

“Come along. Lets leave your pathetic, old father here.”

The little boy giggled again and jumped into Brienne’s awaiting arms. As she walked towards the door, Brienne heard Jaime groan at her back. She called out over he shoulder as a smile stretched across her face.

“I think Dada wants to stay in King’s Landing. Lets go to the ship, Dunk.”

“No!” Jaime called out and ran from the room. His arms wrapped around Brienne’s waist as he caught up to them. “Don’t leave me here. Gods. I can’t take another day of this.”

Duncan reached out for Jaime; his little fingers grasping at his father’s jerkin. The pair had a special bond that warmed Brienne’s heart. Everyone at the Keep marveled at how similar Jaime and little Duncan looked. It seemed the only Tarth trait the young boy gained was size.

For his age, Duncan was quite tall. Selwyn mused that the young boy may give his namesake some stiff competition as tallest knight in Westeros’ history. Positioning Duncan on his right arm, Jaime reached for Brienne’s hand.

The seemingly permanent smile on Jaime’s face lit up his eyes. Turning to Brienne, he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss to the cheek. His happiness to be leaving King’s Landing was palpable, and Jon had japed that Jaime may swim to Tarth if the ship didn’t depart on time.

Arriving at the courtyard, their escort stood waiting to see their former Lord Hand and Lady Commander to the docks. Jon smiled warmly and stepped towards them. Reaching for Duncan, Jon chuckled as the little boy dove towards him.

Aside from Jaime and Brienne, Duncan enjoyed no one more than King Jon. It was seeing Jon with Duncan that convinced Brienne what an incredible father the king would make. At Jon’s side, his queen, Sylva, laughed at the pair. She was expecting their first babe around the same time that Brienne was set to deliver her second.

The couple had wed a year ago after a long courtship. Jaime felt they made a strong match both personally and politically. As Jon put Duncan on his shoulder and spun the boy around, he glanced up questioningly.

“Will you come back and be my Lord Commander someday, Dunk? We can be the next generation of Dunk and Egg.”

The little boy giggled as he clutched Jon’s hair. After handing Duncan off to Sylva, Jon approached Jaime and pulled him into a firm hug.

“Come on. Surely you can pretend to miss all of this for a few moments.”

Jaime chuckled and clapped Jon on the back. “I’ll miss your wife. She’s definitely your better half. I’ll miss your brooding face when she isn’t in the room. I’ll miss getting to make hand japes.”

With a heavy sigh and eyeroll, Jon stepped back from the embrace. “I thank you for all your help these years. I’m not entirely certain my new Lord Hand is up to the task, but I know where to find you if I get desperate.”

Lowering his voice, Jaime showed a rare moment of sincerity. “Thank you for… _everything_.” He glanced back at Brienne; the implication clear. It came up many times over the years. Jaime was forever grateful to Jon for helping him get Brienne to Volantis. Were it not for Jon’s aid, Jaime would have had a rotten corpse to deliver to Kinvara.

Nodding firmly, Jon grabbed Jaime’s arm. “Of course. You take care of my Lady Commander. She has my future Lord Commander to train.”

Jon took a step towards Brienne and beamed at her. It was a rare sight, but one often reserved for Brienne. She and Jon had become close friends over the years. What started as a unique bond over a shared experience, blossomed into a well-rounded friendship.

They had many things in common aside from death. They both preferred the sword to politics. They had a deep commitment to duty and justice. They both cared deeply for those most neglected; the poor, homeless, outcast, orphaned, and belittled.

Together, they launched many programs aimed at supporting those less fortunate or forgotten by society. Jon also legitimized many bastards who sought claims to heirless Houses.

“Ser Brienne, I’ll never have a finer Commander for my Kingsguard. You served House Stark well for years, and now you’ve served me well for years. I thank you.”

Brienne returned Jon’s smile. With a bow, she spoke from the heart. “It has been an honor, your grace. We’ll train our little knights well so that they may serve you in years to come. I’m pleased to know they’ll have the privilege to grow up in times of peace under your rule.”

After a quick embrace, Brienne moved to bid goodbye to Queen Sylva. She was a sweet woman who balanced Jon well. Brienne was eager to hear from them when their babe was born.

Making their way to the port, Brienne glanced back at the castle. For almost three years, the Red Keep had been her home. She accomplished things that a little girl on Tarth once dreamed of, but thought frivolous fantasies of an unlovable beast.

It struck her as odd that she accomplished many of her dreams, but with scattered memory of them. Looking to Jaime and Duncan on the horse beside hers, Brienne smiled inwardly. She became the Warrior and the Mother when she thought the gods made her as little more than their great jape.

The babe in her belly kicked happily the entire way to the dock. It was as though Jaime’s excited energy had transferred to their newest babe. Not even an hour later, the ship pushed back from dock. As the city faded into the horizon, Brienne smiled at what lay ahead.

**Jaime**

The journey to Tarth felt equally short and eternal. With an energetic babe to keep from leaping into the sea, Jaime was ready to nap for the next fortnight. Hoisting Duncan onto his shoulders, Jaime pointed at the approaching dock.

“Do you see Grandpa? I think that’s him. Well, mayhap its a mast of a docked ship.”

Brienne scoffed at Jaime’s side and swatted his arm. Nothing amused Jaime more than commenting on Selwyn’s height. The Mountain would have looked like a babe in comparison.

To Jaime’s right, Pod leaned forward and smiled widely with Celia at his side. “I hope your mum greets us with those little cakes again, Cel. Those are even better than Evenfall’s rolls.”

Jaime glanced at the young woman to Pod’s side. She was a kind young woman with a slender frame, long dark hair, and mirth-filled eyes. Her appearance reminded Jaime of Elia Martell. Celia’s parents had moved to Tarth from Dorne many years ago.

They were of distant relation to House Martell through Celia’s father. They had moved to Tarth in search of a life away from court and closer to Essos. Celia’s mother was originally from Pentos, and the family traveled back and forth quite a bit.

With a knowing smile, Celia glanced at Pod. “Don’t worry. I told her we would arrive today. I’m certain she has an entire platter for you. Be careful though. I don’t know that your future Evenstar will want a Master at Arms who she needs to be rolled into the yards daily.”

The ship soon reached dock and Jaime’s eyes went wide at the sight. It seemed the entirety of Tarth had assembled at the docks to greet their ship. Always standing the tallest and proudest among them, Selwyn beamed at their ship’s approach.

Atop Jaime’s shoulders, Duncan clapped excitedly when his grandfather came into view. “Grandpa! I see! I see!”

Selwyn’s large arm reached out to wave. The crowd at his back craned to see the future Evenstar and her growing family.

As they disembarked the ship, Jaime put Duncan down and watched as the young boy sprinted to his grandfather. Compared to Selwyn, Duncan looked the size that a boy his age should. The guards clamored around Selwyn to appraise the youngest Tarth; their future Evenstar after Brienne.

At their approach, Jaime heard the calls from the men at Selwyn’s back. “Tarth’s knights are home for good!”

Grumbling at Jaime’s side, Brienne muttered for his ears only. “Yes, what a knightly figure I have to me.”

Jaime’s eyes drifted to Brienne’s belly. He loved the sight of her heavy with child. Her features were softer than usual, and she had a glow to her. Selwyn helped Brienne to her horse and guffawed.

“By the gods, child. You couldn’t have come home sooner? That babe may well be birthed on the ride to Evenfall.”

Jaime bit back a laugh as he mounted his horse. The debate had raged for moons. If Jaime had his way, they would have been on Tarth the moment the maester confirmed Brienne’s pregnancy. As always, Brienne’s preference won out. She wished to stay and train the new Lord Commander until the last day possible.

Selwyn refused to let Duncan go. As he mounted his horse, he reached down for Pod to pass him little Dunk. “Dunk, my boy! Look at you. A bit short, but we’ll feed you well enough now.”

_A bit short!? Gods. The boy looks ready to enter a melee._

Before they left port, a female voice called out to Pod and Celia. The woman who Jaime knew to be Celia’s mother ran towards them with a platter of cakes in hand. Excitement lined Pod’s face as he turned to Brienne.

Putting up a hand in understanding, Brienne nodded. “We’ll see you both at the Keep later. Enjoy the visit.”

The ride up to Evenfall felt worlds different from the last trips to Tarth. They were home for good now and Jaime couldn’t be happier. Duncan babbled away on Selwyn’s lap as the older lord pointed out landmarks as they passed.

Their last visit had been for Duncan’s first nameday. The young boy was not speaking much then, but he had enjoyed running around the fields and playing with his grandfather. It was then that Brienne shared news of the babe to come.

Selwyn had practically cried with joy at the announcement. The rest of the trip was spent discussing matters of Tarth and the return home to come.

Stepping into the Keep, Selwyn directed them upstairs. He had setup a second nursery and worked with staff to prepare their rooms for the past few moon turns. Jaime laughed inwardly at the information.

_What does this man deem messy? The rooms were in fine condition when we last visited._

Jaime received his answer when he stepped inside their room. His eyes misted slightly as he took in the sight. Unlike prior visits where the room was tidy, but sparsely decorated, it now looked like a clash of east and west. Tarth’s colors lined the linens, pillows, wall décor, and curtains, but silver lions were stitched onto almost everything.

Duncan’s room was no different, but in addition to toy knights, there were toy lions. Selwyn even built a lion themed rocking horse which Duncan instantly fell in love with. The only person more shocked than Jaime was Brienne.

Selwyn’s large arms draped over each of their shoulders as he smiled at Duncan on the rocking horse. The young boy rocked aggressively while roaring like a lion.

“Father. Lions?”

At Brienne’s awestruck tone, Selwyn guffawed and gripped Jaime’s shoulder tighter. “Our boy here may be a Tarth, but he’s still a lion. Now he’s just a silver lion; better color with our blue and rose.” As Selwyn leaned towards Jaime’s head for closer inspection, he spoke teasingly. “It seems in more ways than one. I see some gray mixed in with that gold.”

Jaime chuckled and nodded as he bit his lip. “I’m just an old lion now, eager to laze about in the sun.”

Selwyn’s chest rumbled with mirth as he looked back to Duncan. “I’ve decided that not _all_ Lannisters are bad. We Tarths acquired the best of them. Our House continues because of his love for my daughter.”


	30. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty years later, Jaime and Brienne have rebuilt House Tarth

**Duncan**

Sitting in his mother’s study, Duncan smiled as he looked to his wife. At one and twenty, Duncan was the youngest Lord Commander in the history of the Kingsguard. Before earning that title, Duncan had also become youngest Kingsguard in the history of the Seven Kingdoms; just edging out his father.

Unlike Jaime’s service under Aerys, Duncan loved his king as he loved his family. He protected King Jon with everything he had, and Duncan had already led a successful military defense against a threat from across the Narrow Sea. 

War raged for a moon, but the threat was successfully quelled. Tales of Duncan’s bravery and keen military tactics were sung from Dorne to the Wall. As flattering as it was, Duncan only cared to impress four people; his parents, his king, and his wife.

Reaching for his wife’s hand, Duncan squeezed it tightly and leaned over to kiss her. Theirs was a love match. Like his father, Duncan refused to wed for political gain. He had married Lady Arya’s and Lord Gendry’s daughter, Lady Brienne Stark.

Brienne was nine and ten; a true force, and one of Westeros’ most prominent female knights. At her hip, Brienne wore her mother’s sword, Needle, and valyrian steel dagger. The dagger glistened in the firelight as flames danced in the hearth and warmed the room.

“Are you ready for this?” Duncan bit his lip to prevent the laugh threatening to escape.

Ever her mother’s daughter, Brienne spoke with a raised brow and challenge in her voice. “For what? Your parents to spend most of this conversation staring longingly at each other, or for you to bumble through our announcement?”

With a loud guffaw, Duncan shook his head. “You confuse me with my father. I never bumble, I charm.”

Brienne’s shoulders shook with laughter. She nodded dramatically in feigned agreement. “Yes, always charming. What was it you said the day we met? ‘Is that a girl?’ Very charming indeed.”

“In fairness to me, we were children of five and four, and you were wearing your father’s armor and helm. You looked ridiculous.”

Before they could continue teasing one another, the door to the study burst open. “Where are they!?”

Joanna came bounding into the room; her golden curls and bright blue eyes lighting up the study. At her back, Arya shuffled in slowly. The younger of the pair was far less excited by her brother’s and goodsister’s arrival.

Joanna was Duncan’s oldest sister. A woman of twenty, she was always smiling and creating mischief. Of all the Tarth children, she was the only one who refused to pick up a sword. Her interests were more courtly in nature, and she enjoyed political intrigue similar to their uncle, Tyrion.

By comparison, Arya was entirely her mother’s daughter. She was a young woman of eight and ten. From the time Arya was old enough to walk, she was challenging Duncan in the yards. Like their mother’s skill with a blade, Arya resembled her mother in every way.

Where Arya was indomitable on the field, she was timid off it. “Hey Dunk. Brie. Have mother and father seen you yet?”

Shaking his head, Duncan’s thumb traced over his wife’s knuckles. “No. We’ve just arrived moments ago. Pod said they were at the waterfalls _again_.”

Joanna groaned in distaste. “Ugh, gods. I can’t wait to leave for King’s Landing. They’ve been worse than usual lately. It can’t possibly be normal.”

Joanna’s complaint was one that Duncan heard from her many times over the years. It was one thing to be a love match, but what his parents possessed always seemed so much more.

Bran often referred to them as twin flames. As a child, Duncan assumed his parents’ love was how all married couples felt about one another. It wasn’t until he spent time around other married couples, that Duncan realized just how wrong he was.

His parents love was the type that stories were made of. It was something that Duncan struggled with as a younger man. The example set by his parents for what a marriage could be felt impossible to attain.

Most marriages between nobles were for political alliance. Few found love in their arranged marriages. Fewer still married for love. Only one struck him as twin flames.

Over the years, Duncan learned more about his parents’ love. He heard tales of sapphires, hands, bear pits, dead things, and death itself. It was the one thing that neither of his parents cared to speak about. His mother’s death.

Most stories were those shared from the few people closest to them. Arya, Bran, Uncle Tyrion, and King Jon told pieces of the tale over the years. A love that beat death.

Duncan always wondered how he was meant to find _that_ in his counterpart. Over time, Duncan came to learn how rare a thing it was.

He reconciled that he would wed for no reason other than love, but that he could not hold his love to unrealistic expectations. He could not compare his relationship to others; particularly that of his parents.

Where he learned to admire and appreciate his parents love for the rare thing it was, Duncan embraced his own love. Duncan and _his_ Brienne saw each other frequently enough over their years, and their love grew strong over time.

Each meeting brought them closer. Each day of marriage deeper in love. He wouldn’t trade his wife for anything in the known world, and Duncan loved her with all of himself. Like this father, when Duncan loved, he loved deeply and wholly.

Looking to Joanna, Duncan smiled in amusement. “I can’t believe we’re to endure you at the Red Keep. Poor Ned doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.”

Joanna stuck out her tongue like a child of five might. “Clearly he has excellent taste. He is a prince after all.”

Dropping any mirth from her tone, Joanna spoke seriously. “We were actually considering taking King Jon’s offer to live at Dragonstone. It would be nice to have some space to ourselves before the crown is forced on us.”

Joanna’s face fell slightly. Like their parents, she had little desire to be queen of anything. She and her betrothed, Prince Eddard Targaryen, were to wed in a moon turn. Like Duncan and Brienne, Joanna and Ned came to love one another deeply over the years.

Given the friendship between their parents, the pair saw each other often. While they considered others, they always found their way back to one another. They were born less than a week apart; Joanna on Tarth and Eddard at the Keep.

Both Joanna and Ned japed that the real reason Joanna kicked so frantically in her mother’s womb on the way to the ship that day just twenty years ago, was that she didn’t want to leave her future husband.

The king and queen had one more child after Ned; a girl of seven and ten named Elia. Elia was betrothed to Jaime Lannister, the heir to Casterly Rock. Jaime was Duncan’s eldest cousin and best friend.

Like Duncan, Jaime also bore a striking resemblance to Jaime Tarth. Despite Duncan’s unnatural height advantage, the cousins could pass for twins if they wished to. Unlike Duncan however, Jamie had little desire for swordplay. Instead of fighting with swords, Jaime fought with words.

Like his parents, Jaime of the Rock was incredibly intelligent and had a mind for politics. He could outmaneuver anyone, but he was also a kind man. Many at the Rock felt he was more Joanna than Tywin in that regard. 

Turning his attention to Arya, Duncan appraised his sister. “And you? What of your betrothed?”

Arya was betrothed to Lord Edmure’s son, Lord Holster Tully. While Duncan’s parents hadn’t sought out matches for any of their children, Edmure approached them a few moon turns ago.

The Riverlands hoped to forge stronger alliances with other kingdoms. Edmure knew that the Tarths were a well-respected House with many children to consider.

At the question, Arya’s face fell. “I’m no longer betrothed to Lord Holster.”

Duncan felt his stomach drop. Judging by Arya’s expression, things had not gone well with the visit. “What happened?”

“He saw me.” Arya’s voice was barely a whisper. Leaning against the shelf at her back, Arya played absently with the hilt of her sword.

Duncan’s jaw clenched in anger. Of all his siblings, Duncan felt most protective over Arya. She was a remarkable fighter; one of the best in Westeros. Despite that, she struggled to earn the respect of her peers. She was not deemed traditionally beautiful just as his mother wasn’t.

“Fuck him then. He’s half Frey anyway. You should wear his face as Brie’s mum once did to Holster’s grandfather.”

Arya snorted and smirked; the sight of it warming Duncan’s heart. Struggling to swallow a laugh, Arya spoke with amusement heavy in her tone.

“I don’t think his face is all that wearable any longer. Father took his fist to it after Holster’s words towards me. Mum had to drag Dad off Holster. Holster, he… he pissed himself.”

Duncan guffawed loudly as the scene played out in his mind. Their father was fiercely protective of them, but none more so than Arya. As if summoned by thought alone, Duncan heard his mother and father approaching from down the hallway.

Their laughter always preceded their arrival. It was a sound that Duncan missed more than anything while serving in King’s Landing. At the familiar sound, Joanna grabbed Arya’s arm.

“Lets get out of here. I don’t need to see them sucking face again today.”

The two young women moved quickly from the room. Moments later, Duncan’s parents walked in. Standing to greet them, Duncan extended his long arms towards his mother. He towered over her and had passed his grandfather’s height some years ago.

“Mum! I think this is the longest I’ve seen you go without a swell at your belly. Congratulations.”

Brienne swatted his stomach and glared, but Duncan could see her biting back a laugh. In total, Duncan had seven siblings. The youngest was six-year-old Catelyn.

“I’m far too old to have more babes. Leave me be.”

Duncan chuckled and shook his head. “You said that after the twins. Then you said that after Sel. Then you said it again after Tyrion.”

After Arya, his parents had twins of five and ten; Arthur and Galladon. Of course, they swore they were done after that. The twins were wild as babes and wild still as young men. Despite procuring enough moon tea to fill all of Evenfall, Jaime and Brienne managed to get pregnant with Selwyn.

Selwyn was one and ten, but he appeared a man twice his age. Like his namesake, Sel had a hearty laugh, Tarth features, and little patience. Then there was Tyrion. He was a boy of nine and looked the perfect combination of both parents.

Unlike most of the Tarth children, Tyrion was very serious. It took a lot to elicit a laugh from him, but despite it, he was a happy child.

Brienne glanced at Jaime and spoke with narrowed eyes. “Yes, well your father’s one remaining duty is to brew the moon tea in the morning. Hopefully he doesn’t forget how to boil water, as he often forgets how to tidy up after himself.”

Stepping back form his embrace of Brie, Jaime moved to stand beside Brienne. Pressing a firm kiss to her lips, Jaime smiled teasingly.

“I can heat up all manner of things, thank you.”

_Oh gods. Awful. Joanna had the right of it._

Pushing past him, Brienne moved to embrace Brie. Before Duncan could greet his father verbally, Jaime had wrapped his arms around him.

“My little boy. You look taller somehow.”

Duncan chuckled and squeezed his father. They always had a special bond, and Duncan missed his father terribly. Duncan’s goal had been to serve King Jon until it became his time to rule on Tarth, but all that changed now.

Looking at his wife, Duncan smiled before they all took their seats in the study.

“How is grandfather?”

Judging by his parents’ reactions, Selwyn was the same as ever. Brienne rolled her eyes and began to protest, but Jaime only laughed and nodded enthusiastically.

“He thrashed Ser Pod around the yards the other day. It was a sight to behold.”

Brienne scoffed; her eyes darting disapprovingly to Jaime. “He is eighty and has no business being in the yards. He can hardly walk, Jaime!”

Jaime bit his lip and tried to cover his amusement, but it did not good. His shoulders shook with mirth as Brienne continued to glare.

“Do you plan to carry him up the stairs nightly? You need to stop encouraging him.”

Jaime scoffed at the words. “Me!? I’m the smallest one in this Keep. Have the twins carry him upstairs. They’re already the size of aurochs.”

Duncan sat back and enjoyed the exchange. When his parents weren’t doting on one another, they were bantering like it was their job.

With warning in her tone, Brienne continued to scold Jaime. “And that’s another thing. Stop acting as though you can’t tell them apart! The jape stopped being funny after their first nameday.”

“It’s no jape, Brienne. Have you seen them? We should have one of them wear a little ribbon or something.”

It had been a constant jape for as long as Duncan could remember. Of course, everyone knew that Jaime could tell the boys apart. Despite being identical twins and equally wild, Arthur and Gal were certainly their own people; something Jaime instilled in them from the day they were born.

_‘You shared a womb, but not a soul. You are your own people. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.’_

Shaking her head in disapproval, Brienne looked to Duncan and Brie. A warm smile spread across her face before she spoke.

“I’m thrilled to see you both, but what brings you here? We thought to see you in a moon turn for Joanna’s wedding.”

With a small smirk, Duncan looked to his wife. “Yes, well we wanted to have a conversation with you first. You recall my desire to serve as Lord Commander until Mum needs me to step in as Evenstar?”

Jaime and Brienne nodded slowly; their brows furrowing at the words.

“Well, I was instead thinking of serving another 10 years and then returning home.”

Duncan watched as shock took hold of his parents’ features. Jaime glanced first to Brienne before his head cocked questioningly at Duncan.

“Why the change? I would love to have you both home, but I thought you were happy in King’s Landing.”

Squeezing Brie’s hand, Duncan smiled widely. “We are. It’s just that I remember how much fun it was to grow up here. Sailing, swimming, fishing, and the foods… gods, the food is infinitely better here than King’s Landing. We want that for our children. Of course, our firstborn will have to endure ten years in the capital, but the others will get more time here enjoying the island and… enjoying both of you.”

Understanding washed over his parents and after a slight pause, they lunged across the space between them.

“This is wonderful!” Brienne beamed and held her gooddaughter closely. “How many moons? You don’t even look pregnant.”

“I’m near three moons now. I’ve finally been able to get my head out of the bloody chamber pot for long enough to get on a boat.”

Jaime snickered and nudged Brienne’s side. “You remember those herbs the maester had you take with the twins?”

A grimace lined Brienne’s face at the memory. With a nod, she looked to Brie and smiled. “I feel your pain. This is so exciting. Don’t tell your grandfather quite yet or he’ll immediately set to work on another nursery. The dolt twisted his ankle while sparring Pod. He can barely move, but I’m certain he’ll be thrilled to see you both.”

Appraising his parents, Duncan raised a brow. “So, you’re both good with us living here in 10 years?”

Jaime snorted and put an arm around his son. “10 years… 10 moons… 10 days… whatever you like. We’ll be glad of it. Egg will be very sad.”

A loud laugh escaped Duncan’s lips at the japing nickname he used for King Jon. He and the king were extremely close, and Duncan enjoyed the last six years serving in the Kingsguard. King’s Landing had been home for some years, but Tarth was where he longed to be.

When he discussed the matter with Jon, the king was happy for him.

_‘You’ll have given me six and ten years of service. I couldn’t ask for more, and if things keep going the way they are, we might have another Tarth to name to the Kingsguard.’_

_Arya_. She was knighted two years prior and played a crucial role in the last war. While she struggled to find a match, she was highly respected and would make a fine addition to the Kingsguard. Jon had smiled at the thought.

_‘My cousin saved us from the Night King. It would be fitting that the young knight bearing her name protects me from the Stranger.’_

They agreed not to mention anything to Arya yet. Arya dreamed of being in the Kingsguard, but no positions had become available in years. Duncan only wished Arya didn’t struggle to find love.

It hurt to see his younger sister so down on herself. Arya’s opinions of herself reminded Duncan of tales of his mother in her youth.

_If only more people could appreciate the depth of their beauty._

**Jaime**

It had been a moon turn since Duncan and Brie visited Tarth. Two moons since Jaime beat the snot out of Holster Tully. As he stood in the hall where he and Brienne once gathered after their wedding, Jaime smiled at the sight of Joanna dancing with Prince Ned.

_That fucking name. I was very clear with that girl. No Neds. No Tormunds. No Ronnets. All miserable shits._

It had been good to see Jon again. The king and Jaime’s eldest son had formed an incredible bond, and the pair were currently laughing uproariously at a table; each with a drink in hand. As much as it had become a jape over the years, they truly were the new ‘Dunk and Egg’.

Jaime had always been accustomed to a more brooding Jon Snow. Aegon ‘Jon’ Targaryen turned out to be much more entertaining than Jon ‘I don’t want it’ Snow. The man who Jaime fought alongside during the Long Night seemed to have crumbled with the original Red Keep.

The king who Jaime saw now was confident, accepted, and content. It was likely his wife had something to do with that. Queen Sylva turned out to be a most generous queen. She continued to oversee many of the programs that Brienne and Jon initiated some twenty years ago.

Loathe as Jaime was to admit it, he missed the king and queen. On account of Selwyn’s declining health, Brienne was acting Evenstar and handled all matters concerning Tarth and as such, any summits that Jon called.

Jaime often stayed behind to watch the younger children, though in truth, it seemed they were keeping an eye on him. Jaime still struggled to believe how remarkable his life turned out. He wed the love of his life and had eight amazing children to call his own. 

He also managed to find a father figure in Selwyn. Their relationship had gotten off to a rocky start given Jaime’s decisions at Winterfell, but it blossomed into something Jaime had never imagined having. From the day that Jaime became a Tarth, he was treated as Selwyn’s son.

Selwyn imparted fatherly advice and spent time with just Jaime. They went sailing and fishing together; often to Brienne’s consternation when she was left behind with the young children. Jaime knew that Selwyn thought well of him, but he didn’t realize how much Selwyn cared for him until Jaime’s near-death experience. 

It was eight and ten years ago when Jaime almost met the Stranger. The storms on Tarth were like nothing Jaime had ever experienced. It was during one such storm that Jaime nearly drowned.

He and Selwyn had been on the eastern side of the island. There had been reports of damage to the smaller port on the outskirts of Morne. The coastal village was reliant on the port to enable fishermen to bring in their catch. By all reports, the last storm had left the docks in a nearly unusable state.

When they arrived at the village, a storm had moved in quickly. After appraising the dock with a builder, Selwyn and the older man began to draft up plans for repair. They moved into the harbormaster’s office, but Jaime was approached by a villager in need of aid before he could join the men inside.

_‘M’lord, my son’s boat can’t tie off and the storm is hitting. Their anchor broke away and they’re adrift.’_

The sea was unrelenting as Jaime tried to aid the two young men on the small fishing vessel. As the three of them tried desperately to secure the vessel to a piling that remained standing from the prior storm, the waves intensified.

As the sea began to batter the dock and boat, Jaime realized the rope wouldn’t hold. He instructed the young men to get more rope and a proper anchor from the harbormaster as he fashioned a stronger knot. 

With his back to the sea, Jaime never saw the wave coming. From what Selwyn later said, it was massive surge and took out what little remained of the dock. It crashed into Jaime’s back and knocked him headfirst into the vessel before he fell unconscious into the sea.

It was the last thing that Jaime remembered. When he regained consciousness inside the harbormaster’s office, Selwyn was holding him tightly and sobbing. He was mumbling something as Jaime’s head was crushed against the older lord’s chest.

_‘Not again. I can’t lose another son to the sea.’_

Selwyn was soaking wet form having jumped into the water after Jaime. Jaime’s golden hand had acted as an anchor to his unconscious body and it took Selwyn some time to find him in the storm seas.

When they pulled Jaime from the water and rushed him inside, it took some time to get the water from Jaime’s lungs. For the week following that, Selwyn hardly let Jaime go.

Since that day, all of Tarth knew that where there was one Lord Tarth, the other was not far behind. Jaime and Selwyn became inseparable. Of course, the pair often exasperated Brienne, and they enjoyed giving Pod a hard time.

Now as Jaime stood in the hall watching his children enjoy the feast, he felt Brienne approach. It was one thing that Jaime always loved. They often felt each other before seeing each other.

Theirs was a deep bond that most struggled to understand; an unseen magnetism that always pulled them together.

“Joanna seems quite content.” Brienne raised an amused brow as she watched the newlywed couple dance close and whisper secretively.

A smile tugged at Jaime’s lips as his arm slipped around Brienne’s waist. “I preferred our feast of lemon cakes and wine after we wed. The only thing better was the broken shelf that followed.”

Brienne hummed at the memory; a small smile tugging at her lips. As quickly as the smile appeared, it faded. “Arya left again. Snuck outside only moments ago.”

_Seven hells._

Jaime sighed and shook his head. Every time the revelers moved towards the dancefloor, Arya fled the hall. Jaime’s heart ached for their daughter. She was only ever asked to dance by him or her brothers. It seemed she inherited her mother’s luck where it concerned available noblemen.

“Lets go find her then.” Jaime slipped his hand into Brienne’s and pulled her towards the yards. It was where Arya always went to run from uncomfortable situations and emotional hurt.

_So much her mother._

Making their way outside, Jaime saw Arya’s unmistakable frame beating the practice dummy to shreds. She was a remarkable swordswoman, but like her mother, she had a maiden’s heart. As they walked along the edge of the castle in the shadows, Jaime saw another figure approach. 

Arya had the respect of her fellow knights, but there were those at court who mocked her just as Brienne was once mocked. Grumbling to himself, Jaime was prepared to beat the next miserable shit to a pulp that dared insult his daughter. As they moved closer, Jaime’s steps faltered.

The young man who approached was one who Jaime knew all too well. At Jon’s request, Tormund and a few of the Wildling leaders came to the capital for the wedding. Tormund’s eldest son, a burly redhead named Jon, stepped close to Arya.

Jaime’s body tensed and he prepared to intercede, but Brienne held him back. When Jaime moved to protest, Brienne shushed him. She watched the pair in the yards with rapt interest as Jon’s voice reached their ears.

“You keep leaving the feast before I can ask for a dance.”

Arya’s voice betrayed her unease. As her sword hand lowered to her side, Arya glanced at the ground. “There are plenty of women to dance with in there. You would be better served asking one of them.”

The young wildling shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t much want to dance with any of them. I want to dance with you.”

From a distance, Jaime could see the confusion on Arya’s face. “Why would you want to dance with me? Is it some kind of jape or bet you have?”

It was Brienne’s turn to flinch at the words. Jaime’s eyes darted to her and he could see the painful memories surfacing. Before he could say anything, Jon’s voice captured his attention.

“My father always said that your mom is the most beautiful woman he ever saw. I disagree. I think you are.”

_That’s it. I’ll kill him and his father._

Jaime tried to storm forward, but Brienne held him back. She spoke to him in hushed tones. “Don’t you dare. Let her decide what she wants. She could likely kill the boy if she felt like it.”

Arya stammered at the words. Even in the dark, Jaime could see her blush. “Do not insult me.”

_Gods. She truly is Brienne._

“I mean no insult. Is this a southern thing? Is ‘beautiful’ not a compliment? I mean to say you’re pretty.”

“I am not beautiful. My sisters are beautiful. I am ugly.”

The young wildling took a step closer. “Not to me. Your sisters and the other ladies are not so special. I think you are. So… will you dance with me?”

Arya looked around suspiciously. She shrunk away slightly, but Jon extended his hand. “I’m not very good. Better at fighting to be honest. At least out here, it’s just us though.”

Hesitantly, Arya sheathed her sword and took the young wildling’s hand. He smiled widely and kissed her knuckles.

_Where the hell did he learn that!? They don’t do that north of the wall._

As if reading his mind, Brienne chuckled. “It seems King Jon has given Tormund’s son some pointers on courtly behavior. He tried to do that for Tormund once.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. His voice was a whisper, but he spat the words. “When? It better not have been after I swept you off your feet.”

Brienne barely muffled her laughter as mirth filled her eyes. “What? When did you sweep me off my feet?”

Feigning offense, Jaime clutched his chest. “At Winterfell, of course. We’ve been over this several times.”

“It’s bloody hot in here? _That_ was sweeping me off my feet?”

Jaime chuckled lightly, but before he could reply, Brienne spoke once more. “I’ve never slept with a knight before? Was _that_ it? Gods. I do hope our sons didn’t learn how to court from you.”

“I remember it going very differently. I recall showing up to your room with wine, and lemon cakes, and a new helm. I remember declaring my undying love for you and then we spent hours laughing together at how absurd Tormund is. And then…”

Brienne covered his mouth with her hand; her body shaking with barely restrained laughter. “Stop it. I can’t listen to this.”

Jaime pulled her close in his arms. Nuzzling into Brienne’s neck, he asked more calmly. “When did Tormund try to steal you from me with courtly gestures?”

“I regained the memory some time ago. One of the last summits that I was at, Tormund kissed my knuckles in greeting, and I recalled him doing it once after House Stark reclaimed Winterfell.”

Jaime’s mouth gaped and he pulled back to meet Brienne’s eyes. “I’ll fight them all. Arya is not going to engage that wildling over there. Not Tormund’s son. None of this will do.”

Pulling Jaime back towards the castle, Brienne shook her head. “Leave them be. She’s smiling, Jaime. Let her be happy.”

_Smiling? What?_

Glancing over his shoulder, Jaime melted at the sight of Arya smiling widely.

_Seven hells._

As they moved back inside the Keep, Jaime tugged Brienne close. “I want her happy, but why must it be Tormund’s boy. Surely we can find another for her.”

A sly smile spread across Brienne’s face as she searched Jaime’s eyes. “Wasn’t it you who said that we don’t get to choose who we love?”

Any further protest died on Jaime’s tongue. The sound of the feast carried down the hallway and towards them. Wrapping his arms around Brienne, Jaime pressed his lips to hers.

“You remembered.”

Brienne nodded her head slightly. Her tone was teasing as she met Jaime’s eyes. “Yes, it seems that try as I might, I can’t forget you.”

And that night they made number nine.


End file.
